Running with Wolves
by Aubrette
Summary: For Jacob fans and Jacob enemies, this is an in-depth foundation of what happened when Bella got left behind. A re-working of New Moon, Bella becomes a fighter. After she befriends Jacob she must draw upon new strengths to fight for him and win him back from Sam Uley, the mysterious gang leader lurking around the reservation. M for some crude language.
1. The Edward Bit pt 1

_**Author's Note:**__ Welcome to book two__! Y__'__all know what__'__s gonna happen here, Wardo is going to take a break and give Jake a chance to shine. What you probably weren__'__t expecting is Mixed Martial Arts! Enjoy this significantly more bad-ass rendition of New Moon. Also, please enjoy the playlists assigned to each character in the Appendix!_

_All praise and honor be to the Smeyer god who brought forth fursploding werewolves to battle adamantine vampires! Without her, we would never know which team we were on. Twilight is obviously her child and I am just a delightful bastardization of said series._

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><p>There is a river flowing now very fast.<p>

It is so great and swift

That there are those who will be afraid.

They will try to hold onto the shore.

They will feel they are being pulled apart

And will suffer greatly.

Understand that the river-knows its destination.

The elders say we must let go of the shore,

Push off into the middle of the river,

Keep our eyes open and our heads above water.

And I say: see who is in there with you.

Hold fast to them and celebrate!

-Thomas Banyacya

Hopi Prophesy to the Nation

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><p><strong>1. The Edward bit<strong>

Unlike the groping teenagers in her high school, Edward loved and trusted Bella enough to spend time away from her. When Bella enjoyed Edward's family, it was as though she were engaging in a more complex form of love of him, as though she were meeting secret sides of Edward. She wished that she could share that sort of exploring with Edward, that he could build his own relationships with her parents. But Charlie barely tolerated the boy who had stolen his little girl and Bella could understand his reluctance to forgive either of them. But when Bella was first in her wheelchair, unable to get in and out of the shower without help Alice offered her assistance and permanently endeared herself to Charlie. The same could not have been said were Edward to make a similar suggestion. It had become a friendly routine for Alice to come over and show Bella how beautiful she was.

"We'll keep your eyebrows natural," Alice explained, sitting Bella in front of her bedroom mirror. She and Alice had grown close over the summer, with Alice helping Bella from her wheelchair to a plastic patio chair in the shower, Then when Bella was on crutches, Alice continued to come over to help with quotidian life. Their bond was intensified by the strange memories they shared of that week in Phoenix and the myriad scars James had left behind.

"Thick, well-groomed eyebrows are the new fashion," Alice chirped. They were picking out Bella's clothes for tomorrow, the first day of school. Charlie had already left for work and Alice was going to drive Bella to the mansion, but first they would conspire. "Bitch brows are over-played. Now people want to see a more rustic beauty. It also works well with that gypsy hair of yours." Alice had been slowly swapping Bella's soaps and deodorants, or leaving behind extra clothes or pretty earrings. Beautifying Bella had become Alice's summertime project.

"I do not have gypsy hair!" Bella laughed, feeling light-hearted with Alice and playfully pushing away the stone figurine. Alice had learned to give way when Bella pushed her, making an exaggerated stumble like a comic mime. She had also, though only through trial-and-error, learned the precise force to exert the same kind of playful push back without toppling Bella over. They were talking about fashion in a way Bella never would have imagined before. At first, Alice had hoped that a lame Bella would be similar to a six-foot dress-up doll, but Bella quickly and loudly made her autonomy clear. She didn't want to be anyone's pawn again.

Bella opened a small box with six assorted sets of pearl earrings in them. When Alice taught her how to test pearls for authenticity (rub them against your teeth to find the grittiness) Bella had wilted with shame and revulsion: real pearls? But the cost! The expense! It had been another bonding moment for them. Bella explained that she was uncomfortable with the showiness of the Cullens and the careless waste of their money. "Sometimes," Alice had said, "the gesture is meant to be lavish, because you deserve it."

Bella did feel beautiful. She was astounded by her own joy and confidence. The loss of thirty pounds since The Episode In Phoenix had triggered something in her: pride. Even if she still had a heavy stomach that piled up like a cat onto her lap whenever she sat down, Bella was beginning to love herself. She was still uncomfortable in a bathing suit or shorts, but Alice had researched skin and hair treatments to help Bella fight razor burn and ingrown hairs through the summer. Together, they had gotten her wearing knee-length skirts and sleeveless tops. For a self-declared frump it was a remarkable feat. Now she put on her pink pearls to bring out the blush of her cheeks and laughed loudly with Alice. She wore sun dresses with bright colors that swirled when Emmett would swing her into a bear hug. She wore fashionable flats so that Edward would be just taller than her. She would stand in front of the mirror after showering, pinching at her waistline, and marveling that it was concave now. She would bring all of this to the murky halls of Forks High School.

"You have a wild beauty," Alice explained as she brushed coarse and wavy black hair to a sheen, "the more you wear contrasting colors, the stronger you will look. Dark eyes, heavy lashes, rosy cheeks… they wrote plenty of poems about your type in the Romantic era."

Despite her new confidence she knew that she was more scarred than other seventeen-year-old girls. She had tried to talk about what happened in Phoenix with Edward, but he would hear none of it. Today was her last chance, but first she would talk to Carlisle and see if he could help.

She sat in a horse-hair stuffed leather chair, blowing on a mug of black coffee and waiting for Carlisle. She caught unfamiliar glimpses of herself in the reflection of the study windows. Her hair was loose and warm pearls glowed from behind the curls. Her skin broke out less often thanks to Alice's soaps, and the bright summer colors of her dress made her feel like a recently bloomed flower. She stretched her leg, feeling the dull pain and the weak muscles surrounding her break. When the doctors had to remove her pins, she had wondered at the long-term torture James had managed to inflict on her. Edward's reluctance to let her heal him and his responsibility for all of her harm hurt her further in that it forced her to continue a posture of bravado that was not always true. Until he was strong enough, Bella couldn't let herself be wounded around Edward—or else he would use her pain to further harm himself. It strained their intimacy and muddied their communication, and Bella was getting sick of it.

She touched the mug to her arm, the inside of which had a crescent scar: a bite mark. Alice had given her bracelets, cuffs, and watches to cover the pale reminder, but she didn't hide the mark from the Cullens. The scars were always a little cooler than her human flesh, a reminder that she wasn't crazy, that she really was in love with a vampire. And this love had consequences. She warmed the flesh but quickly felt it cool again.

Carlisle came in and sat across from her, smiling. She was always struck by that disarming his smile which belied his power and strength. He was always so kind to her, so generous with his time and she already thought of him as a father-in-law. Bella knew that vampires had more time than humans, thanks to never sleeping, but she was still flattered that a nearly four-centuries-old man would find her company enjoyable. No matter how often they spoke she always got butterflies in her stomach and was always overcome with awe and girlish shyness around the Doctor.

"Carlisle," she asked, feeling about seven-years-old, "I'm worried about Edward."

He sighed, nodding, "Yes, I'm worried, too. It has taken him longer to recover from the incident with James than we had anticipated."

"He won't talk to me. At least, not in the way I want him to," Bella said. Already her shyness was leaving. Carlisle had that ability: he both awed her and made her comfortable.

"What is it that concerns you?" Carlisle asked, steepling his fingers and furrowing his brow. This was a mannerism she noticed in Edward.

"His protection is manic and suffocating. It's hurting us both. If he's going to obsess over my health and my mortality, then it leads me to only one conclusion…" she trailed off. This was a topic that had drifted into conversations and been forcefully ignored by Edward. She wanted to try it with Carlisle now.

"You have concluded that if you were immortal Edward wouldn't worry so much?" Carlisle guessed. This conversation was not new to the Cullen household, but it had been avoided around Bella for Edward's sake.

"The way he fusses over me, I would almost believe that it's what he wants. Then we could be normal. He wouldn't have to fret and worry so much," Bella was frowning, taking sips of coffee to steady herself.

"But," she continued, "if we ever get near the subject, he starts a tirade of self-loathing. He's so torn up, and I'm tired of being strong for him. I was the victim, the pawn in all of this, and he's being so selfish." She stopped, always feeling her heart ache whenever she spoke badly of Edward. Her lip trembled—she hated how easily she cried. She drank more coffee, clearing her throat, and Carlisle waited.

"He says that he wouldn't wish it upon anyone he loves," she shrugged, avoiding Carlisle's caramel eyes which reminded her too fiercely of Edward's, "but I don't understand it. Everyone he loves, apart from me, is a vampire."

Carlisle nodded and let out a sigh.

"Bella you've hit the nail on the head. This is the very same problem that has tormented me for the past century. You know the story of how Edward became my son?"

"I only know that he was a dying orphan," Bella said reluctantly, her eyelashes fluttering when she was caught off guard. She hated that there was still so much ignorance and secrecy in their relationship.

"It wasn't premeditated, you know," Carlisle said. A reaction passed over Bella that intrigued him, "You didn't like me when you first heard the story, did you?" His smile eased the truth from her.

"It didn't seem fair," she said, "Edward was dying and you offered him life, how could he say no?" She had been so mad with Carlisle until she had gotten to know him. She had also been torn by his actions and the gift it had given her in Edward.

"I'll admit that my motives were selfish, but I did my best to allow for consent. Edward was young, though, and it was really his mother who convinced me."

"His mother?" Bella asked, intrigued. Edward could barely remember his mother, most of his human memories had faded. But Bella realized that Carlisle would remember everything with the crystal memory of a vampire.

"Yes, she looked just like him. I got to know her better because she held on to lucidity until the very end, unlike Edward's father. We talked when we could, but the epidemic kept me very busy. I worked in many different hospitals across Chicago so that I wouldn't have to feign sleep and waste precious time. I can afford the luxury of evenings here at Forks," despite his youth, his expression was old and wise. He put Bella to ease, and she felt lulled into his anachronistic lilting voice.

"She had the same reddish-brown hair, and precisely the same green eyes."

Edward had green eyes? She thought to herself, a sadness pulling inside her with a profundity she couldn't explain.

"She doted upon Edward, but she was smart. She knew he wouldn't last very long. She also knew that her own days were numbered. Shortly before she died, she seized my arm and demanded that I look at her." Carlisle frowned at the memory, fighting emotions that he didn't want to show to Bella. It was another characteristic that Edward shared.

"Her eyes were terrifying, but she was completely rational. She said to me, 'Save my son,' to which I responded, naturally, that I would do my medical best. But she kept insisting and she wouldn't let me go. What stopped me was when she said, 'Use your gifts. Do for him what the other doctors cannot do. Save my son.'" Quiet filled the beautiful study like incense, drifting and sweet. The two of them imagining this plea and the heavy burden it carried.

Bella tried to imagine the crowded infirmary, the dying patients in bleached beds, and the ethereal Carlisle navigating death so easily, saving whomever he could. She tried to imagine this woman and what she would have looked like. She tried to imagine Edward, a sickly boy with green eyes. She kept imagining him younger, smaller, but she knew he must have looked exactly as he did now.

"I thought she knew my secret, but she gave way to the fever soon after that and died within hours. If she did know who I was, then she appeared to approve of that lifestyle for her own son. I had been toying with the idea of creating a companion for over a century, but I couldn't reconcile the cost of it. I could not rob someone of their future.

"But Edward was there, and he was dying. I had taken a personal liking to him: he was quick to read people's faces and he was passionate. He watched both his parents die from the same illness he had, and though he was grieved, he was not afraid. I asked him if he wanted to die. He said 'no', and I then asked if he wanted to be my son. His eyes told me all I needed to know. It was impulsive, yes, but I do not regret it." He paused to look at Bella, sizing her up and determining how much she should know. By now, they were very close, and he decided there was no reason to hold back.

"I do regret that I tried to recreate my own wounds on him. I still did not understand the mechanics, but what I did to Edward prolonged his pain during the transformation. I regret doing that to him."

Bella was quiet. Then she whispered,

"If I know anything about Edward, he would have always chosen you, Carlisle. He loves you. I blamed you before, but now I am grateful for you. Without you, I would never have been able to meet him."

"I can never reconcile my loneliness with my actions. My family has filled an emptiness inside me, and I selected them only because their futures were already decided. But I am still at odds with the theological implications."

He meant the long-standing creed that vampires were eternally damned and without souls. Bella was not educated in theology, but she couldn't imagine Carlisle as damned, and she knew that if souls existed then Edward certainly had one. They had covered that argument before.

"I still don't understand," she said, not following the theological line, "if he forgives you, and if he worries for my mortality, then isn't the obvious answer that I should eventually become a vampire?"

"Bella," Carlisle said gently, "Edward does believe in souls. He could never bring himself to take yours. Think to yourself, if you were in the same position, could you condemn him to hell?"

This stopped Bella short. Even though she did not believe in a mini-ghost crystallized inside the body, she understood the reverence behind the idea. Her own soul she could barter for a good cup of coffee, but to risk Edward's? She shook her head. Bella pushed aside the conclusion that she would eventually have to be a vampire if she wanted to stay with Edward. It would demand too much of him, and he might not be the man she loved if she were to haunt him with that responsibility.

* * *

><p>Edward took her to the meadow. On weekends they spent whole days there and Bella found that even her pale skin could trap some of the bronze of sunlight—with the help of Edward's timely reminder to apply more sunscreen. He had enjoyed watching her fall in love with his family the way cooks enjoy sharing recipes. There was a mutual delight, and the pleasure of shared took even greater pride in watching each Cullen fall in love with a stronger, happier Bella.<p>

At the mansion Edward stood beside her, a pale moon reflecting her own brilliance. But the meadow was theirs, a private place for them to be alone and share in a special, strained intimacy. Today, with reality and the drudgery of homework looming, Bella was distracted. Even in the simple joy of the wildflowers as Bella practiced her stretches and physical therapy for the bone broken by James, there was a blight. Her moon was scarred with craters and like Earth's own satellite there was a permanent dark side which the sun could never warm.

"Alice tells me that we sometimes have to accept lavish gifts, even if we feel we don't deserve them," she told Edward in the meadow. He was shimmering as the clouds passed and a patch of buttercups made his cheek glow gold. He had been pretending to sleep, an exotic and secret pleasure of his. When Bella spoke he opened his eyes slowly, the dappled-fawn brown contrasting his hard skin.

"You mean I can pay for your college tuition now?" He asked. Bella hated discussing college with Edward. It had once seemed an exciting journey, an opportunity for self-discovery and independence, but the Cullens and their fantastical life had filled that void. Now college only appeared to be a route toward a career, and Bella wasn't ready for that sort of life yet. She wanted the adventure of exploration and travel; she wanted to be a Cullen and partake in history and the whole world all at once. She didn't want to be tied down yet.

"No," she answered, softening her rebuke with a smile, "but what I mean is…" she had tried to broach this subject all summer, and consistently been rebuffed, "it is okay for you to be happy, Edward. You deserve it."

"I am happy," he insisted. At that moment, in the wildflowers of the meadow, pretending they were both human, Bella might have believed him. But her love for Edward was profound because her knowledge of him also ran deep. She knew that despite the sweetness of the meadow, he harbored a dark worm that ate away at him and marred their joy.

"For now," she said, "but I don't think you accept my love. You push it away. You hurt yourself and you hide from me. Let me help you heal, Edward," it was a desperate plea at this point. All her attempts at subtlety had been undermined. This was her last chance before she turned eighteen, older than Edward would ever be.

"I'm not the one who needs physical therapy five times a day," he snapped sharply. Edward meant to condemn himself with the remark. According to him, the broken bones were his fault, it was his fault that she had to go through multiple surgeries to have pins added and removed to her shin. But his biting words had hurt Bella in a different way: she was mortal and soft. He was nearly invincible, he didn't need to mend his bones or perform rudimentary stretches to remind his muscles how to work. They both sat in the painfully bright sun, nursing their own demons. It was Edward who spoke next, realizing his words may have been taken adversely. He had been careful to learn Bella's body language in lieu of telepathy.

"Bella, I didn't mean that," he said, sitting up and looking at her for the first time since their conversation began. "You are perfect to me, and every scar and mark on your perfect body is my fault. It kills me to see what I have done to you."

"Because you love me, right?" Bella asked, her eyes brimming. She kept the tears back, they wouldn't be helpful at this point. Edward rushed to her, collecting her into his arms, berating himself.

"Of course I love you!" He said breathlessly. But Bella pushed away from him, making him see her expression.

"Why can you not understand that you are hurting me by hurting yourself? Every day, everything that you do is slandering the one I love. You aim to hurt yourself privately, but you are always, always hurting me."

But Edward said nothing and Bella knew she had failed to get through to him. She could see him, inwardly eviscerating himself, a depthless sinkhole of self-loathing. He had only learned that he would have to try harder to hide his unhappiness.

The next morning he was as dazzling and unchanged as the first day she saw him. "Are you ready?" he asked, slipping his arm around the small of her back. She nodded, always feeling stronger when he was beside her.

Her return to the school was radical. Edward refused to tell her the gossip but Bella's summertime transformation was lunchroom news. It was a testament to how badly Bella had been treating herself: as soon as she concentrated on changing the Swan household diet she had shed considerable weight. Now, still six feet tall and hovering above 200lbs, Bella was not considered good looking. But that did not matter. With Edward and her new sense of confidence, Bella felt beautiful and that was her greatest asset.

The stares never stopped. She and Edward were an easy target for the rumor mill, but the Cullens had taught her how to remain aloof, to turn her skin into Teflon and shake off all commentary. Sometimes, however, Bella's walls cracked. The misfits had outright declared war upon her, and she was rejected by every clique in school. She didn't fit anywhere: too ugly to be popular, too infamous to be unpopular, too human to be a Cullen.

Nevertheless, her posture straightened as they entered school and she kept eye contact with her tormentors. She found herself saying "I deserve better than this." Edward didn't comment on her body change except to say that he was bedazzled by her confidence. She was bringing out more of the special bits he liked about her—developing the very traits that attracted him to her in the first place. As she grew into herself, he said, she would be more potent.

Bella liked that word. And she liked being on Edward's arm, not just because of his looks and mysterious charisma, but because he supported her. When a cruel remark or a disgusted face hurt Bella, he would whisper into her ear, draw her attention away from the others. He made her stronger, but loving him also made Bella weak.

Within only a few weeks her transformation had become old news, chalked up to the old money of the Cullen family and a gastric bypass. High school is so stupid, Bella thought to herself, but she was still glad to watch the rumor mill find another source of entertainment. Now Bella's birthday was approaching and the bloom had faded from the first few weeks of school. Already students were griping about projects and reduced to zombified pack-mules lurking the hallways.

They rode home in the Volvo, the rains returning to Forks and Bella grumbling about the choice of Romeo and Juliet for senior reading. She had read it freshman year back in her old school, and two more times since then.

"It's a perfect tragedy," Edward said, eyes fixed on the road, "waking up from a deep sleep to find that your true love has been fooled into poisoning himself. Then Juliet stabs herself. Herbs and daggers," Edward mused, "humans are so fragile.

"But it would be worse," he continued, "if Juliet had survived; if she had been condemned to live with the absence of Romeo, unable to find solace in death."

Bella turned away from the rain-streaks of the window and looked at Edward, his face impassive and marbled. She knew it was a mark of their unique relationship that she could be so acutely tuned to someone so cold. "You mean, if Juliet were an immortal vampire?" she said, disliking the direction of this conversation.

"Well, that would change things too much," Edward conceded.

"Edward, what are you talking about? Are you thinking about suicide?" Bella was worried, horrified by his cavalier manner.

"Oh, nonsense, Bella! Of course not," he scoffed and Bella was briefly relieved, "but I have had to consider it before."

"When?" Bella asked, assuming it had been before her time. Perhaps during the bad years back when Edward was a vigilante.

"Last spring," he said. Bella was too shocked to interrupt. "As I ran to find you in Phoenix I knew that there was a chance I would be too late. Then what? Was I supposed to go on without you?" Bella felt sick. Her partner was talking about his own death without any apparent emotion.

"Carlisle had tried to kill himself so many times in the past. I knew it wouldn't be easy. Still, there is one sure way to kill a vampire. You saw what we did to James."

"No, I didn't," Bella shot back angrily, emotions welling up in distortion and confusion, complicated by the memory of burning venom and a compound fracture in her leg.

"Well, I couldn't just ask Carlisle to rip me up and burn me. But the Volturi would. If I broke their rules."

The Volturi. Bella remembered the painting in Carlisle's office. She had called them the Vampire Vatican once, but now a terror crept into their title. Now, they were something that could kill her immortal beloved, and she feared them.

"All I'd have to do is stand in some sunlight or show off my supernatural abilities to a crowd. If enough people saw me, I couldn't possibly be allowed to live."

"Stop it!" Bella finally choked, sobbing. "Stop talking about killing yourself!"

"Well I'm not going to do it," he said gently, ripped from his trance. He pulled over the car and turned to Bella.

"Bella, I would never leave you alone like that," he assured her, placing a cool hand to her hot cheek.

"I don't even want you to think about it! How could you? How could you have already plotted your own suicide?"

"I had to," he replied.

"No," she was shaking her head, "No, Edward, no! No!" She beat her fists to his chest and he had to physically control her, to stop her from hurting herself.

"Shh, I'm sorry," he hushed her, realizing the pain he'd caused her, "I didn't mean it. It was the monster. I didn't mean it," he said gently, rocking her as she cried.

That night Bella had a nightmare. In it, Edward was leading an old woman to the meadow. She was frail and confused, and she would pull away from Edward or become panicky when she forgot who he was. She was Bella, old and senile. And as Edward cared for her and led her gently into the field, it only made the image more nightmarish. He was perfectly whole, seventeen, and entirely in love with this dilapidated, frightened old woman. He got her to settle down and eventually fall asleep. With a kiss to her forehead he said,

"Goodbye, Bella. You won't have to suffer any more." And with that, the old woman, old Bella, ceased breathing. Then, with the calm face of rapture, Edward turned east, toward Italy. The intention in the dream was made clear. With gladness he would sacrifice himself. He would die happy, having watched Bella live out her life. In a sickening scene to the nightmare, Edward smiled, welcoming the strong arms positioned to tear off his head.

"Edward!" She gave a hoarse shout, jerking awake. He was beside her, laying on top of the covers, calming her. He'd been with her as she slept. She buried her face into his chest and fought back tears.

"It's okay, Bella, I'm right here. You were having a nightmare. Here," he angled her chin up and kissed her cheeks and forehead.

"Happy Birthday," he smiled. This did not have the right effect on Bella. "You're eighteen now," he said proudly.

"And you'll never be," Bella said hollowly. This was not how she wanted to start her birthday.

"C'mon, Bella, I'm 109. You aren't robbing the cradle," he was in rare good humor and Bella didn't want to spoil it. She pushed the dream away.

"Okay," she said, gathering her wits again, "Okay, well, if it's my birthday then I want a proper kiss." Edward hesitated, but then cupped her face in his hands and leaned into her. Bella kissed him, holding back the fear and desperation of her nightmare. He's right here. It's okay. She felt Edward give some resistance, a signal that the kiss should begin to wind down. But Bella whispered, "Not yet," and straightened herself, moving her weight against him, extending the kiss. He indulged her, and she could sense that he was struggling to remain composed. She hated that he couldn't lose himself to her kisses. She pressed further and he broke away,

"Bella," he said without anger.

"I know," she apologized, "I just wish you didn't have to hold back so much. What are you more afraid of, my body or my blood?"

Edward evaded the question. "It's for your own safety," he reminded, preparing to exit through the window so she could dress.

"Maybe not." She countered quietly. Edward turned to look at her, his expression changed, and then disappeared through the window. He and the Volvo would appear in her driveway in half an hour.

She ate her customary breakfast of oatmeal, adding raspberries for a special treat. She knew Edward was brewing in the car, thinking about her comment this morning. She anticipated the conversation with a measure of welcome. She was sick of dancing around issues.

He opened the door for her, a gesture that was more for his benefit than her own. As soon as he was in the car he said,

"Don't even think about it, Bella."

"Think about what?" She would make him name it.

"I won't change you. And I won't let anyone else do it, either."

"You're being unfair." She tried not to sound childish, but the phrase came out like a little girl wanting extra candy. She added, "I never even thought about it until recently. Think about it, Edward—"

"—no."

"Let me talk!" She said, but Edward wouldn't let her. When they were parking at the school she grabbed him by his coat sleeve.

"You have to listen to me," she said, "you obsess over my death and you won't let yourself get close to me. I want us to be together, Edward. And we can't until this sword of Damocles is dealt with!"

"Everyone dies, Bella," he said coldly, "that isn't what bothers me. I just don't want to be responsible for your death. If I could be human, you know I would."

"Then why won't you let me change my own fate for you?" her voice came out as a hoarse whisper. Edward kept his eyes on her and finally said,

"We're going to be late to school. We shouldn't talk about this kind of stuff on your birthday."

Birthday. It reminded Bella that for her time was inexorable, but Edward had escaped the curse. He would watch her bloom and wilt. He helped her out of the car; she was too overwhelmed to refuse the gesture.

"Kiss me," she asked. Before Edward leaned in she added, "And don't stop. Please."

"Then do not make me stop," he said.

"Edward, you need to trust yourself. I trust you."

He shook his head, no.

"I won't hurt you," she whispered, pulling him by the lapels of his light summer coat. Edward kept trying to cut off their lines of verbal and physical communication, but Bella wouldn't have it. She felt his chilled fingers twist into her knotted hair and she leaned back against the Volvo, letting some of his weight press against her. She wanted to get used to Edward. He was so heavy and strong and his skin was always cool, like a stranger stepping in from the cold. But his lips were pliable, and his affected breathing quickened despite himself.

He didn't stop her. He let the kiss play itself out. When Bella nuzzled her head against his throat she whispered,

"Thank you."

"Happy Birthday," he responded, wrapping his arms around her. It had been a real gift for her. The mouth is full of soft tissue and succulent blood vessels; it is a chaste wound with the lingering perfume of blood. A slip of the teeth on the tongue or lips would utterly release the bound imp inside of Edward. That imp already knew how good she tasted, what her blood did to him. He knew the gift would be ruined if he complained or showed his own struggle to Bella, and so he rolled his shoulders back and put on a dazzling smile.

She saw Jasper out of the corner of her eye as they entered the school and she felt her heart stumble. All the Cullens were attractive, and even though she considered them family she was continually startled by her primal impulses that accompanied their beauty. Plus, she always felt a little embarrassed with Jasper specifically. Not only had she been holed up with him and Alice for days while hiding from James, but she later found out that he was in the dance studio when she was writhing in agony and spurting blood. He had had to deal with both her visceral pain and the rank temptation of her scent.

She always felt naked around Jasper. She was lucky Edward couldn't read her thoughts, but to Jasper her emotions were crisp and immediate. He was polite and detached with Bella, often employing archaic forms of Southern chivalry to keep his distance from her. He understood that she was upset and she saw his mouth mutter in vampire-speak. That's what she called the under-the-breath fast-talk that the family employed to pass messages too quickly or quietly for the humans to hear. Alice was balancing on her toes behind him and whether she caught the message or not, her expression didn't change.

"Bella!" She greeted, as though they hadn't seen each other in years. "Happy Birthday!"

"Thanks," Bella said uncomfortably. She loved Alice, and Alice was a boost in the arm for Bella. She stole her away from Edward and chatted happily about the presents Bella would get from her parents and the party they would have that night. Bella admitted she wasn't feeling up for a party.

"It'll be fun," Alice promised brightly. It was hard to argue with a psychic. The day progressed normally and by the time Edward was walking Bella back to the Volvo her spirits had brightened.

"I've never had a fun birthday," she confessed. "They've always been embarrassing, where people just stare as I open gifts that I'll later return because they don't fit or I'll never use them. We're usually all bored and I hate being the center of attention."

"Our parties are more refined, don't worry." Edward smiled. "Besides," he added, "everyone else is just excited to have the excuse for celebration. We haven't celebrated anything in a long time." Bella couldn't guess whether a long time was five or fifty years. It was one of the unnerving idiosyncrasies of her romance with Edward. But she wanted to humor them and was determined to have fun.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note: <strong>_Thanks to **Miacakes** for commenting so thoughtfully and giving me the energy to keep up and improve my story! Feel free to PM me, I do my best to respond quickly and thoughtfully!


	2. The Edward Bit pt 2

_**Author's note:** Sorry these are kind of long, but I wanted to get through the Edward bit as quickly as possible. I mean, we're all here to see Jacob, right?_

* * *

><p><strong>Worst Birthday Ever<strong>

Charlie came home triumphant with a greasy pizza. Although the excuse was for Bella, certainly the choice was for Charlie. He enjoyed her cooking, but missed his bachelor banquet. Bella was grateful that he at least got a few vegetables on the pizza. Edward stayed for dinner, politely nibbled at the mediocre meal, eating only once slice. He hated the degrading act of reverse peristalsis necessary to remove the offending bolus from his interior. But he was doing everything he could to regain favor with Chief Swan, and turning down food was a bad idea.

Charlie brought out a colorful gift bag with ribbons tied on it and passed it to Bella when they were done with dinner.

"From your mom and me," he said. Bella already knew that it would be a scrapbook kit and a digital camera. They were hopeful items from a mother who apparently still didn't understand that her daughter was not handy with arts and crafts, but the expensive camera merited a genuine thank-you and embrace.

As she let go of Charlie—they rarely hugged—he fished around in his pocket, "I got you this, too. Sort of on a whim. But it's useful. Just don't take it to any airports." It was a key chain box-cutter. Her father's practicality warmed Bella and she thanked him again.

"Doubles as a weapon," he added ominously. Edward returned a winsome smile to no effect. Bella explained that the Cullens were putting on a small party for her and Charlie let her go with surprising ease, perhaps feeling more confident now that his daughter was armed. As Bella got into the driver's side of her truck Edward was laughing, "As if a box-cutter could hurt anybody."

"Hey, Charlie's a cop. He's seen some weird weapons. You can do a lot of damage with just a sharpened pencil, you know." She had already clipped the box-cutter to her key chain. She was inordinately pleased with the trinket and it suited the truck. Besides, she was about to go to a birthday party and may very well need to cut open some boxes.

When her ancient truck finally made it to the Cullens, Edward was teasing her about her sound system. He always picked on the truck, she guessed some of the animosity was really aimed at the Blacks, who hadn't shown their faces around the Swan residence since Bella had skipped town. Their culture made a habit of hating the Cullens, and Billy was a zealot on that front, but she did miss little Jacob.

They got out of the car, laughing and feeling good for a change. She had her new camera with her and was snapping paparazzi candids of Edward, who laughed, teasing her that the images wouldn't show up. She was taken completely by surprise when she entered the familiar house and saw the party arrangements.

Alice had draped royal purple over the piano and tables, adding strategic accents of pink lace. There was a singular, small table with an intricately iced little cake. It looked more like artwork than food. Beside it was a modest pile of carefully wrapped gifts in various colors and shapes. There was a small bottle of champagne and a tray with crystal glasses.

"I can't drink all that!" Bella laughed.

"We were going to help. The carbonation is at least interesting for us," Carlisle smiled. She was touched that they would make such a gesture for her. Even Rosalie and Emmett were at the party, which surprised her.

"I thought you were in South Africa?" She laughed as Emmett wrapped her into a spinning hug. Rosalie snorted, a sound only she could make angelic.

"Obviously not." She scowled. Even her anger was beautiful, the seething detachment of a classic diva. Bella returned the glare with a warm smile which only made Rosalie angrier. It was one of Bella's favorite things about Rosalie: all that vim and vigor. She had been working on ways to make her crack a smile, and she was determined to get a laugh out of the misanthropic vampire one day.

"I'll be right back, I just have to step out," Emmett excused himself, winking cartoonishly. It was a good party so far, Bella thought to herself. Edward sat down at the piano and played some upbeat music as Alice hopped over with a box from the table.

"This one first!" She commanded girlishly. The box was lighter than it looked. Bella untied the ribbons and peeled back the paper to reveal a box promoting some sort of electronic gadget with lots of numbers and letters. The box was already open. She pulled apart the flaps to find that it was empty. Rosalie let out a little laugh.

"It's a new sound system for the truck," Jasper explained, apparently part of the joke, "Emmett's installing it for you right now. That way you can't take it back," he added with his sweet drawl. Bella laughed appreciatively and smiled. Edward had been anxious but Bella was handling the attention well, and he could see his family enjoying themselves. Emmett returned from outside and Bella thanked him profusely and earnestly.

Alice had appointed herself the gift-giver and she plucked an envelope of heavy cardstock with a wax seal, "This is from Carlisle and Esme!" She smiled, returning to Jasper's side. He complimented her on the party decorations and Alice gratefully sucked in the praise, explaining her motivation behind the color scheme in extensive detail.

Bella smiled up at the handsome parents, watching her with pride. She felt a tinge of sadness, she'd only ever been embarrassed by the gifts her own parents gave her, always too lavish for their income. She remembered the box-cutter and laughed. She hadn't had a chance to use it, but it would probably work on the wax seal. She turned over the envelope and deftly slid the blade from its plastic sheath on the keychain, easily slicing through the wax and part of her finger.

"Dang," she said. But no one heard her. Alice had tossed Jasper backwards, seeing the blade too late. Edward was flying from the piano to Bella's side. Everything was happening in vampire-time, faster than Bella could process. It was Jasper: he was wild and doubled back easily from the toss, escaping from Alice easily, dodging past Emmett with skill and dexterity. As Bella uttered the final phoneme of her disappointed epithet, she looked up to see the ravenous vampire bulleting towards her. And then Jasper was pulled backwards taking the whole room away with him, as if Bella had suddenly repulsed even the furniture.

But she was the only one moving. She crashed against the far wall, bringing down glass and decorative crystal around her. Edward heavily shouldered Jasper, emitting a snarl and snap that would have frightened Bella if she were listening. Emmett had finally grabbed hold of Jasper and Edward was crouching where Bella had stood, a warning growl rattling in his throat. Bella could feel it in the floorboards. Then she smelled it. In his protective gesture, Edward had pushed her too forcefully. The impact had lodged glass into her arm, and what was once the challenge of a single drop of blood was now a steady trickle. The frenzy would begin.

* * *

><p>Alice was right when she had described the bloodlust as that of sharks. What were once family members to Bella were now predators. She looked in horror, seeing familiar smiling face turn alien, devoid of their human shreds. She curled backwards into herself as they stalked towards Edward. Rosalie, Esme and Alice straightened from their crouches on the fringes and stalked thirstily towards Edward—who had set himself up as a bottleneck. He wasn't breathing, but Bella could see him shaking violently from the effort. Emmet had successfully locked Jasper outside, but when he turned back to the group his face took on the predator's mask—Bella was nothing to him anymore.<p>

Carlisle spearheaded the group, and it was clear that the blood did not affect him.

"Edward, let me pass." He said with his casual assurance and force. Edward crouched to the side, not taking his eyes from the rest of the family. Only Carlisle was recognizable, though the others seemed frozen, crouching, waiting for something to happen. Carlisle was beside Bella, taking in the extent of her wounds. He held up a hand to his family,

"Everyone, leave now."

"I'm not going anywhere," Edward hissed with the little air left for conversation. Esme stared at her husband, using his strength to control herself. Finally, she corralled her family, forcing them through the door and away from temptation. Alice lingered in the door frame after helping the others leave. She wanted to prove herself and stay, but she was struggling and eventually her blank, vicious eyes turned to Bella and she gave a short shake of the head, disappearing.

"C'mon, Bella, let's take you to my office. Esme?" Carlisle was calm, authoritative.

"I can take care of this," she nodded, the calmness of her voice starling Bella. But her face revealed that there was still thirst in her eyes. She was standing far away with as much furniture as possible between her and the blood. Edward moved as if to follow Carlisle and Bella. Bella looked at Edward. He was barely composed, but the bloodlust had not sunk in yet, he was shaking.

"Go, Edward," Bella said, hating to see him put himself through the ordeal.

"No. I can do this," he said. She shook her head,

"Please. Go."

"Edward, go see to Jasper. He is going to need help calming down." After a pained silence, Edward left the room and let Carlisle escort Bella into his office alone.

Inside the office Bella let quiet salt tears break from her eyes.

"I'm so sorry," she said. Carlisle gave a friendly laugh.

"Sorry to be in possession of a circulatory system?" his eyes were so comforting, but Bella wouldn't accept the consolation.

"You know what I mean, Carlisle. I have to be careful around all of you and I brought a _knife_ with me. It was foolish."

Carlisle had numbed her arm with a swab of something and was concentrating on removing tiny pieces of glass from the wounds on her arm and shoulder. The green shirt Alice had given her was ruined.

"He's planning on killing himself now," Bella said, fat tears falling from her eyes. Carlisle listened, his attention on the delicate work ahead of him.

"If tonight had gone worse…if Jasper had caught me… Edward would have killed himself. You know that, don't you?"

"Death is very different for us, Bella," Carlisle said quietly.

"If I'm human then I will die, and then so will Edward. He can't protect me from everything."

Carlisle was silent, not necessarily condoning Edward's conclusions, but unable to offer Bella any comfort. There was nothing to say. Bella listened to the light clinking of glass in a dish. Carlisle would have to put a few small stitches in her arm tonight. She tried to distract herself from the blood and needles in her peripheral vision.

"How can you do this? You make it look so easy."

"Years and years of practice, Isabella." His voice had a smile in it. Centuries of practice, he meant.

"Is that what Edward is hoping for? That one day he'll be immune to my blood?"

"It is possible," Carlisle conceded. She felt a distant tugging in her skin and kept her head turned away. She didn't want to faint and the blood was already making her queasy.

"It won't solve anything," she said with finality.

"Bella, these are not the conversations to be having on one's birthday."

"Well, this isn't a particularly normal birthday party." She responded. He was blotting her arm with antibiotics and wrapping gauze around the wound. Even then the smell would agitate Edward.

"Bella," Carlisle began. She turned to look at him. He had been thinking carefully and looked at her with some pain in his face.

"You and Edward are in an unprecedented situation. It would be nice to assume that love will win out in the end, but that isn't enough. You will need compassion and empathy. If you can understand Edward, perhaps a compromise can be reached. I say this to you because Edward is baffled by you," he gave a small laugh, "and he believes he will never understand you."

"That's not very encouraging," Bella smiled sadly.

"You're eighteen now, it's time to see that life is not simple. But it is worth it." He pressed her hand, the cool touch making Bella miss Edward, even though he was only a few rooms away. "I'm sorry this had to be your present." He said gently.

"I wish you would tell Edward that. It doesn't matter if I am dead, I don't want him to kill himself. I don't want him to give up on life just because of me." She was watching Carlisle gather the bloodied equipment, carefully cleaning and bleaching away traces from the instruments.

"I have encouraged Edward to discuss this with you more readily, but he believes he knows better—considering his age difference and experience as one of us." Carlisle set the gauze and cotton swabs on fire in a small, beautiful bowl. Bella watched as her blood disappeared in combustion.

"Go speak to him. Perhaps he will listen," Carlisle's voice was soft. He took Bella's hand and they left the study together.

When they returned to the living room Esme had finished bleaching the bloodstains and had cleaned up all the glass. Alice was waiting sheepishly by the piano. She had packed up the unopened gifts, the cake, and the corked champagne into beautiful stacking boxes. There was a green shirt, similar to the one that Bella had ruined, folded next to the gifts.

"I made it because you were getting so much thinner," Alice said sadly, "I knew you would need it, but I didn't see why. I didn't see the box-cutter, Bella. I'm so sorry."

"It was a last-minute decision," Bella said, bringing Alice into a hug. "Is Jasper…?"

"He'll come back from this and he won't hurt anyone, but Emmett has taken him to hunt and Edward promised to talk to him when he's calmed down. He'll hate himself for this."

"I'm so sorry," Bella began, but Alice cut her off.

"No, please don't apologize to us, Bella. It's wrong."

"Bella," Edward called gently from the doorway. He was hanging back, lingering in the shadows, "you should change. I can drive you back to Charlie."

In the truck Bella pulled the garish bow off her new sound system. When Edward turned the key, music started up, clear and startling in the silence.

Edward shut off the music and muttered, "Emmett."

They were quiet for the rest of the ride, Bella unsure how to bring up the conversation she had had with Carlisle. As Edward parked the car Bella pleaded with him,

"Stay."

"I can't. Jasper will need someone to talk to and Emmett is only good for hunting."

"Then come back to me when you've calmed him down," Bella was worried about Edward. He had returned to his default setting: distant and brooding.

"I don't even know if I can drive you to school tomorrow. I'll catch up with you later, Bella." He got out of the truck and she waited for him to open her door. She put a hand on his arm to steady herself as she hopped out of the cab.

"I love you, Edward," She said gently. He was too quiet. He was hiding from her. He gave a sad smile and leaned in to kiss her. Instinctively, spurred by the chasm that seemed to be forming between them, Bella pressed against Edward. But he didn't pull away or try to stop her.

Instead, he pressed back, and with vigor. The situation would have been perfect, but it reminded Bella of another kiss long before. She tried to shut off her mind, usually not a difficult task while kissing Edward. When she felt the truck meet her back she gasped from surprise and the spell was broken. She stared at him, waiting for an explanation for the sudden wish-fulfillment.

"I love you so much, Bella Swan," but his voice was bittersweet, leaving her aching still. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said before turning and disappearing into the night.

"Goodbye," she whispered.

* * *

><p>It was another evening of nightmares.<p>

The dream was crazy and didn't seem to make any sense when Bella woke up, but in the thrall of sleep everything was real and frightening. It was prom again, but both her legs were broken and she weighed twice as much. Her clothes were split and Edward struggled to hold her upright for dancing. She had a ridiculous dress on with a tiara and too much makeup, and eventually Edward let go and she fell to the dance floor. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror: bloated, freakish, pathetic.

"Run, Bella," a voice taunted, laughing. But she could only crawl, coughing blood and crying, dragging her broken legs behind her. She saw Edward in the doorway, and it was light outside. But in the dream she knew that there was something wrong with this light, when he stepped into it he wouldn't just sparkle, he would burn like the vampires in movies. She tried to yell but only coughed and sputtered. She was so heavy, so useless. Edward smiled at her and stepped backwards into the sunlight, letting blue-white flames engulf him.

Bella woke up curled in a ball crying. She looked at the clock. It was barely dawn, but she knew she couldn't close her eyes again. She felt sick, remembering the image of her body, gelatinous and weighty. She got out of bed and quickly changed, wiping tears from her face. Her arm throbbed passively, a patient reminder that nightmares do happen. Quietly she crept down the stairs and put on her running shoes. She would try to run for at least 3 miles today. She had to run.

It was more like trotting. During her rehabilitation she had insisted on starting a running program: the memories of walking, winded, while her mother was supposedly being tortured, haunted her. It began with small intervals, running only for sixty seconds at a time, eventually building into miles. The doctor had been surprised: her weight loss and diet change had helped the bones mend quickly and efficiently, and her exercise had strengthened the muscles.

Still, it was grueling and her pacing was slow, but she had to run. Her leg complained, but after the first brutal ten minutes a sort of calm descended. She was tired and sweaty, her muscles were fatigued, but her pacing was strong. It wasn't going to be easy. It would never be easy, but she knew she could do it. Her body could keep running, no matter how tired she felt or how her brain laughed and called her Behemoth Bella. She listened to her breath and thought, _This is all there is. I am always running. This is how it will always be_.

She returned to the house exhausted but feeling better, cleansed by her own sweat. The Volvo never graced her driveway, and after a shower and breakfast she drove herself to school. In the truck an unwelcome memory came to her: it was the kiss she had shared with Edward before they had separated, when she had to hide from James. It was the first time they had kissed in front of his family, but the situation was so dire that neither of them cared. It had been desperate and reckless. She turned up the new radio and tried to concentrate on the morning DJ through the static.

She was surprised to see Edward in homeroom. Why hadn't he picked her up if he was coming?

"How's Jasper?" She asked before class started. Edward shook his head, communicating little.

Jasper was the worst vampire to make angry. Edward could deal with Rosalie's cruel temper and Emmett's physical brutality, but Jasper could manipulate emotions without hesitation. Being alone with him had not been a good idea.

"Is Alice with him?" Bella pressed. Edward appeared distant, the wall re-establishing itself.

"The whole family is with him. But they let me go to see you. We'll talk after school." His sentences were clipped, and although there was nothing wrong with his cadence Bella was unnerved by his calm. She wished they hadn't talked at all because now she would only grow more anxious through the day.

When their next class rolled around Bella could be beside Edward and whisper to him. Usually, he would write his responses in his notebook and they could carry on a whole covert conversation. They were both good enough students that they didn't abuse this often, but Bella knew this was exactly the time to ignore class.

"Can you forgive me?" She asked under her breath, barely able to hear her own words. He wrote, _There is nothing to forgive. This is not the place to talk about this._

"I should have been more careful," she insisted. But Edward just tapped on the paper again. This was not the time. The day was lengthened by their proximity. What had once been such a good idea, having nearly all of their classes together, was now a torment. She cornered him during lunch.

"Please, talk to me."

"Imagine if you had cut yourself around humans. What would have been the worst case scenario with them?" He asked, his manner abrupt.

"The worst case scenario would have been that I wouldn't be with you," Bella whispered, her voice hurt. Edward was mired in self-loathing, and it wounded her to see him hate the man she loved so much.

"You would have gotten a band-aid. You would have apologized for frightening people, maybe you would have gotten dizzy from the blood and had to lie down. You could laugh about it later with them, it would be a fun joke. A little cut around humans isn't a death-sentence."

"Stop it," she begged.

"If Jasper hadn't killed you…" _one of us would have_, was his implication. "I let my guard down," he sighed, shaking his glorious head. His features were marred with worry and yet they still stunned Bella with their uncanny brilliance. She had to act fast, the wall was solidifying and he would lock her out soon, leave himself to wallow in misery and self-loathing.

"You stopped them, Carlisle stopped them. It's okay. I'm fine. I promise, I'm fine."

"You," his eyes suddenly were accusatory and burning, "you would have _welcomed_ it if you knew you would survive. If it meant turning. You wanted Jasper to bite you."

"No!" Bella returned, shocked. She realized that she had been too loud, other students had turned to look at them, sitting at an otherwise empty table.

"No," she whispered, leaning forward, "I want to be part of your family, but not that way. Not if it meant hurting Jasper, undoing all his hard work."

"Then what do you think you are doing to me?" Edward spat cruelly, "You are undoing _me_, Bella." He stood up abruptly and she tried to follow him.

"Stay," he commanded, "You have to finish class. I've been through high school enough times to skip when I want."

"We have to talk, Edward!" She begged, keeping pace with him so long as he had to keep up appearances of being human.

"I'll meet you at your house after school then. I need to cool off." As soon as he was out of the doorway and into the empty parking lot Bella lost sight of him. Had he even driven to school?

She had left her lunch in her locker. She pulled the binders and books she needed for the next class and her lunch knapsack, taking them out to the truck. She sat heavily on the tired springs of the front seat. She only had fifteen minutes until class. Then something caught her eye. Under the tarp that covered her truck bed she saw a shimmer of beauty: ribbon. She remembered that she had secured the gifts from last night in the bed, forgetting to unload them afterward. They must be wet by now. She got out and brought everything into the truck, opening birthday presents by herself.

Alice had expertly packed everything, and the pretty boxes were sturdy enough to withstand the weather. She noticed that the boxes were designed to nest, and were a present in and of themselves. This made her miss Alice, who sometimes read her better than Edward. Alice knew that Bella preferred utilitarian gifts.

She found the heavy envelope that had caused all the trouble and managed to open it. The cut on her finger was clean but ached when she held her pen in class. The stitches on her arm were alarmingly painful after the run and felt tight, but she had been too absorbed with Edward to notice the pain until now. She ignored it again.

They were plane tickets, two of them, to Jacksonville where Renee had moved with Phil. Edward was willing to brave Florida for her. This boosted her mood and gave her a little more confidence. She went through the other gifts, and one was the small iced cake, packed in a baker's box. She hadn't touched her lunch yet, and the cake would go bad soon. She told herself she deserved some cake, which was probably true, but she still felt miserable as she dug into the artistic icing with her fingers. Eating birthday cake alone in her car. She barely tasted the sugar, and before she realized what had happened the cake was gone.

"No," she sighed, sinking her head into her hands. She jerked upright, realizing she had icing in her hair. Bella moved the rear-view mirror to check, and indeed there was sugary white icing clumped into her hair, and hair in the icing on her fingers.

"I'm such a mess," she groaned, checking her watch: five more minutes. She caught herself eying her knapsack. She had eaten a small cake all by herself, she didn't need more food on top of that. _But I need nutrition_, she told herself. Then, before she could allow herself to think through the decision, she had polished off the cold leftovers, plus the nuts and fruit in her bag. She was starting to feel sick, which was reassuring. Before she had felt nothing.

She would have to go to class soon, but as she nested the boxes and stored the champagne under the passenger's seat she noticed a small silver box. There was an elaborate stylized E on the top of the box. Edward knew calligraphy, this must be from him. Bella flushed, she hadn't wanted him to buy her anything. She was feeling gross and fat again, and she certainly didn't feel like she deserved any of his gifts. She was already indebted to him.

But she opened the box anyway, a slave to curiosity. It was a perfect new iPod, complete with earbuds. Bella touched it and the screen sprang to life. She remembered that the Cullens stayed away from most touch-sensitive electronics, it was too difficult to rewire them most of the time, and the vampire's skin was too cold for the sensors to register. But Edward had already programmed the player. She saw that it was full of songs already. All from Edward.

This was not the place to cry. She shoved the gadget into her pocket and jumped out of the truck, not wanting to be late to class. She tried to shake off the hate speak that was breaking into her head. He had done this for her, his family had done so much for her, and what had she done? She was just a fat, awkward girl, crying and eating cake in her truck. She was pathetic. The Cullens and Hales were so well-put-together, so beautiful. She didn't deserve their love and attention.

* * *

><p>The sugar high made class infuriatingly slow. She couldn't pay attention and despite her churning stomach she wanted more sugar. She bought a soda between classes but found herself slumping towards the end of the day. When the bell finally rang she was feeling sluggish and ill. But Edward would be waiting for her. She managed to get into the car and drive herself home, but the green sky and the early-autumn chill was making her sick. Even though her heart leapt with joy at seeing the pale skin and the rusty hair of the figure waiting for her, her stomach gurgled angrily.<p>

She stumbled, she was trying to get out of the car too quickly. She ran, fumblingly, towards Edward, falling into his arms. He caught her,

"Bella?" He was alarmed and confused. She was crying despite herself. She felt stupid, she didn't even know why she was crying.

"A part of me thought you wouldn't show up," she confessed.

"Let's go for a walk," Edward said, balancing her back onto her feet. She nodded, wiping her face and following him behind the house. She was being pathetic, she was scaring him. Bella breathed deeply, trying to compose herself and be as calm as Edward. She could still see the house when he turned on her. She was thinking of his response: he hadn't reassured her that of course he would show up. That was unlike him.

"We're leaving," he said simply. Bella gave a relieved sigh. She had almost thought he was going to break up with her, but he had just been planning their escape together. She had thought about this many nights before—about the difficulty of their particular situation and the possible need for the two of them to escape together for awhile. She'd miss the Cullens, but maybe it was best if she and Edward lived on their own, sorting all of this out together.

"When?" She asked, straightening and beginning to plan. She was a good planner, and it soothed her.

"Now." He said. "Carlisle can't pass for his age anymore. He already put in his resignation."

"Now? Carlisle?" She wasn't ready to leave, and it would ruin Charlie. He'd already lost his daughter to the Cullens once. But why was the family coming with them if the point was to keep Bella away from Jasper? Edward watched the confusion tangle her face and then smooth as cruelty dawned upon her.

"I'm not part of 'we', am I?" She asked in a hollow voice, from the space between emotions.

"No. You are staying in Forks," Edward said firmly. The spinning started there. Bella shifted from relief to confusion and then began to spiral into panic. Panic and fear. Fear and horror.

"You can't leave me here," she said, desperation building in her voice, "Why are you leaving me? I have to be where you are."

"You have to stay home." His voice was almost patronizing it was so calm. Why wasn't he upset?

"You _are_ my home!" Bella's voice was loud enough that if Charlie were home he might have heard it.

"No, Bella. I cannot be your home. I cannot be human."

"I don't want you to be human!" She was shouting uncontrollably now.

"You don't fit in my world," he said, angrier now.

"I could if you would just let me! We're partners in this!" she begged. She felt sick seeing how helpless she became in front of Edward.

"Bella, I don't want you to be my partner!" He snapped.

It was as though he hit her. Bella's head flinched back and she felt stunned. Then, composing himself he said carefully, "You're no good for me."

The second phrase hurt her worse because it was a verification of all the doubts she had been harboring. It was too much; the cake, the emotion, the physical pain: Bella felt her mouth water and her stomach lurch. Her breathing sped up and she doubled over, vomiting. Edward looked away.

She was crying and spitting. This was the worst possible reaction she could have had. A part of Bella detached, watching her unravel with disinterest. From this perspective it was obvious why Edward wouldn't want her. She finally stopped retching and was able to stand, leaning against a tree. She had no argument to keep him.

"You don't want me." She said, panting. "Of course not."

"Bella?" Edward's voice was still flat, but the inquisition was almost warm. Did he still care for this messy girl? She looked up hopefully.

"Promise me you won't do anything…rash." She stared uncomprehendingly.

"Don't hurt yourself," he added.

"You mean suicide, don't you?" She asked. Edward's silence was an answer.

"I'm the one who makes you want to kill yourself, not the other way around," she said venomously.

"Good," he said, "Charlie wouldn't be able to take it." The last line was too much for Bella. Edward really didn't care for her any more. He only wanted her to stay alive for _Charlie's_ sake. Something inside her snapped, this was real, and she couldn't physically handle any of it. Her body began to crumble beneath her.

"Please don't do this," she whimpered, feeling her legs weakening as the fear set in. He was leaving her. He didn't love her anymore. Maybe he never loved her.

"I'll make you a promise in return," he continued as though she were rational, "I will disappear from your life, erase myself completely. It will be a clean break for you. I only regret not doing this sooner," he said. "Goodbye, Bella." She lurched forward, trying to grab onto his jacket but he easily evaded her, and with a blur of motion he ran into the forest. But Bella couldn't let him go. She started to run after him, frantic.

"Edward!" She yelled, running. She jumped over trees, slid on leaves, and fell several times, "Edward!" she kept yelling. She lost his trail immediately but couldn't stop running. If she stopped then she would be giving up on him. She couldn't stop moving. Her heart was bursting and burning, her lungs were acid. She had to stop to throw up again. She walked, dazedly, until she remembered that she was supposed to be chasing him. Then she would run again until her body stopped her.

It started to get dark but she couldn't give up. He was here somewhere, she just had to find him. Thirst and bile had dried her throat long ago and she couldn't even whisper his name anymore, but he would hear her crashing through the underbrush. She refused to believe he was really gone. She fell. It was so much darker this night, as though the woods were responding to her in empathy. There was no green in this blackness. The moon was entirely gone, which meant it was a deceptively named _new moon_. New should mean full and brilliant, shining and perfect, not void.

And then she fell again, but she kept scrambling to her feet, running. She hit branches and stubbed her toes on rocks and roots. Eventually she fell and couldn't get up again.

* * *

><p>Then the sobbing took over her and she screamed into the earth and mulch. She dug her nails into the humus of the forest floor and beat her fist on a mossy log. Luckily the log was rotten or else she would have broken her hand. Eventually she exhausted herself and stopped, void and new like the moon. She could hear someone calling for her, but even if her voice worked she didn't have the energy to respond. And she didn't want anyone to find her.<p>

The forest began to yawn around her consumingly, and the rain fell loudly on the canopy although little of it made its way to Bella. She could hear chittering and snapping, animals waking up for nocturnal prowls. She heard peeping toads and curled against herself, moaning. Something big rumbled by, and there was a beastly snuffling sound, but whatever it was it must not have been interested in Bella. She phased in and out of consciousness. Then there was a voice.

"Bella." This one was close, and it wasn't a call, it was a claim. Someone had found her. She curled tighter, trying to hide. She made pathetic noises. She didn't want to be found. The forest was failing to hide her.

"Have you been hurt?" The voice asked her. She didn't know who this was. The question was too difficult. Yes, she had been hurt very badly, but she would never tell him that. She opened her mouth to tell him to go away, but let out instead a sputtering cough that grew worse, eventually leaving her gasping for air.

"I'll get you home. My name is Sam Uley, I'm friends with Harry Clearwater. Charlie's been looking for you." Bella responded to this with more wrenching coughing and felt sick, foamy yellow bile in the back of her throat. She was so tired she could barely get it up, but her survival instincts wouldn't let her choke.

Sam pulled her up enough so that gravity could help her finish retching, then he was patting on her back.

"It's going to be okay," he reassured her. "I'm going to pick you up, okay?" Bella shook her head, _no_, but apparently Sam hadn't been looking for approval. He lifted her and she struggled. He would have to fight her, and she wouldn't go easily. She wouldn't let this stranger carry her off.

"Bella! Bella stop!" Sam said firmly, but she clawed and flailed. Unfortunately, her writhing only made her lighter and easier to drag. Furthermore, Sam was more than just strong; he crouched and yoked her over his shoulders, using one arm to pin her legs and the other to hold her arms. Bella fatigued quickly, she had already been tired. Sam was running with her over his shoulder, like a hunter with his haul. When she stopped struggling, her dead weight fell heavy on his shoulders and his feet fell deeper into the loam and mulch of the forest floor as he shouldered her burden. He still kept running.

Bella must have passed out again because the next thing she remembered Sam was putting her down. He put one of her arms over his shoulder and his arm under her waist, dragging her upright now. This was more presentable, apparently, and as Bella dragged her feet she heard Sam's commanding voice.

"I've got her! She's okay but severely dehydrated." Only Bella could get dehydrated in the rainiest place in America. Sam passed her off to more hands and the familiar smell of Charlie's leather sheriff's jacket.

She began to weep, and Charlie's voice came to her over the hum and chatter of the small crowd.

"Shhh, it's okay, baby, we found you. We've got you now." There was a crowd of searchers, summoned by the authority of a small-town sheriff in paternal panic. His first instinct was that she had run away with the Cullens again, but apparently they had all left the day before and only Edward was behind. _That boy_, Charlie thought, summoning all the search dogs and manpower he could muster. His daughter's condition did not endear the Cullen boy to him any further.

There was the familiar emergency room, and tubes stuck into Bella. There was no Dr. Cullen. The doctors asked if she was hurt, and the question rang dissonant against Sam Uley's passive query: _Have you been hurt_? The juxtaposition bothered her, and she answered neither question.

Despite her dehydration, Bella couldn't stop crying. Her stomach continued to seize regularly, even though she had lost the ability to even vomit bile.

Charlie kept her home from school; homeroom started just half an hour after Bella left the hospital. She hadn't spoken a word since they found her and even Charlie hadn't questioned her. Bella listened uncomprehending as Charlie answered both his cell phone and the house phone, fielding calls from the police department and locals who worried about the sheriff's daughter. One call was strange enough that it broke through Bella's stupor.

Charlie came back from the kitchen and sat on the couch where Bella was lying. She wasn't being complacent, and he couldn't get her up to bed by himself. She made an inquiring noise.

"What is it, Bella?" He asked, worried.

"Who was that on the phone?" She asked, but her voice cracked and her lips were dry. Thankfully Charlie caught enough of the sentence.

"Don't worry, it's nothing." He said. But Bella wouldn't take this answer. She began to struggle and try to sit up, arguing in a pathetic, broken voice.

"Bella, stop, you'll hurt yourself!" Charlie tried to get her to lay down again.

"Fine," he said, and she immediately stopped struggling, "it was really nothing, though," he said. "Just some kids lighting bonfires on the reservation. Some people were afraid it was a forest fire."

"Bonfires?" Bella asked. It was a strange time of day and exceptionally wet.

"They were celebrating the news," he said with a smile that didn't reach his voice. He had hoped she wouldn't catch his meaning, but Bella's eyes sank.

"The Quileutes." She said, her voice strengthening but still raspy. Because the Cullens are gone. She finally took a sip from the glass Charlie had been offering her. She appeared to be ready to converse and the cop in Charlie came out.

"Did he leave you in the forest?"

Bella shook her head weakly, not wanting to think about any of it.

"Did he hurt you?" Charlie had never trusted Edward, Bella knew she wouldn't be able to convince Charlie otherwise. She covered her face with her hands and started sobbing, inarticulate and unwilling to bring back any memories.

"Okay, I'll leave you alone. Get some rest, Bells. It will all be okay."


	3. Three Months of Blank Pages

**_Author's Note: _**_So what happened during those three months of blank pages? This. And it didn't look so good, either._

**Three months of blank pages**

Today was a good day. Bella woke up at the usual time, her bag already packed, her homework done. She ate her tasteless oatmeal with a mug of coffee and packed herself a piece of fruit. Today she got a banana. She drove without music to school where she alternated between taking notes with the accuracy of a court stenographer and letting the Nothing creep into the hollows of her eyes. She ate her banana in her truck, unaware whether she were hungry or not. She got home and methodically prepared Charlie's dinner: tonight it would be salmon in orange sauce. Meanwhile she spooned sugar into her mouth, demolished a sleeve of crackers and the rest of the peanut butter, cleaned out the remains of the leftovers from last week, and washed it all down with a pound of apple sauce which she drank straight from the jar.

Charlie came home to salmon wrapped in foil in the oven and lemon rice warming in the rice machine that Bella had fished out of the attic. His daughter was upstairs with a debilitating stomach ache, finishing her math homework. She would lay in bed until late into the night, mentally ticking off the checklist of duties to keep up her appearances of normalcy. That was what a good day looked like for Bella Swan after Edward had drained her.

She lay with one hand on her bloated stomach, staring at the night light she now kept on. She felt taught and sick, but that was good. She looked like a slim-hipped, tall woman who had recently given birth to triplets. Besides her memory, the only proof against this were her breasts, which had also lost weight. Her body was bizarre, lumpy and wrinkled in the middle but showcasing her collar bones and sternum. She did not know that her body was eating at her own muscles. She did not know that she was overweight and malnourished.

Feeling full meant she had successfully caulked over the gaping cracks and holes in her structure, piling volumes of tasteless food into the chasm deep inside her. This sort of sickness was welcome. It had edges and she knew how long it would last.

Her pain was compacted; she had bound her wounds from James, unable to describe the real extent of her pain to Edward when she was afraid the truth would hurt him further. Now she continued that unconscious binding. All wounds, no matter how putrid, would be subjected to tourniquet until they atrophied and stopped bothering her. She refused to allow herself any pity, she told herself to snap out of it and get over it. It was bound to happen, he was bound to leave you, you're being a baby. She made lists of things that would wedge her back into normal life, reshaping herself to wedge back into the space she left behind when she chose Edward over reality. But the denial of self-pity kept her wounds festering, and she turned psychically septic.

Bella was not an abandoned house, but a haunted one. Her stairways were labyrinthine and dangerous, and her woodwork rotted as it lurched from temperature extremes. When Edward left her, he took everything that she had built and more: he took the dusty sunshine and the dead bugs on the windowsill. He took the notches in the door post, the breeze of an open window, the surety of the final step at the top of the staircase. Now there was always a hesitation and the sick sensation of plunging a foot into nothingness.

Even in her hollow state of living, she was a planner. It was harder, though. She would catch herself staring at nothing in particular for twenty, forty, sixty minutes. She couldn't concentrate as easily, had no motive to do such. No motive except Charlie: she owed him.

* * *

><p>Here is what the bad days looked like. In the very beginning she shattered her façade before she could even begin making it. When she finally made the long trip from the hospital to her bedroom and had a chance to look around she noticed a few key objects missing: everything Edward had given her. She checked the digital camera and he had deleted all the pictures of himself. He had taken back books, CDs, dried flowers, notes and cards. When Bella realized that he had erased himself she began screaming uncontrollably and Charlie had to hold her down. Edward had meant to clean the slate but it was the cruelest gesture he could make.<p>

When Bella checked the truck, the sound system was gone, as were the piles of gifts. But he seemed to have been in a hurry because he missed the bottle of champagne wedged back under the seat. It didn't seem possible that he left it on purpose, it was too incongruous, even though Edward's recent actions had all been unexpected. But Bella kept the champagne bottle under the front porch to keep it cool. She knew she would need it sometime. He had left behind all of Alice's gifts: the clothes, the soaps, the jewelry; at least she knew something was real. Bella exiled all the clothes to a small set of drawers in her closet and bagged anything that would remind her of Alice, throwing that into a high corner of her closet shelf. She could erase them, too.

The time came when she finally got around to washing her clothes. It was over a month after the incident. She had refused to let Charlie in her room and threatened him if he tried to clean any of it while she was out. Going through her laundry she found the jeans she'd been wearing on _the day_. In the pocket there was a thin, expensive mp3 player. Edward hadn't been able to erase this. With reverence and fear Bella looked up information on how to transfer the music to her hard drive. She would need cables and software. She knew someone who could help her with this: Mike Newton. They worked together at his parent's store.

Part of her genius plan at deception was to be a model employee at her workplace. Although the store mostly sold football gear, guns, and sweat shirts, Bella conquered the tiny running area and made good use of her employee discount. She talked about pacing and pronation with zeal; she insisted on watching customers jog around the store in order to critique their form. A few times her manager asked her to tone down her intensity. Eventually, she found herself covering janitorial and register duties more often, but didn't make anything of it.

"Hey, Mike, I've got this loaded iPod," she began monotonously during one of their shifts around Thanksgiving, "and I want to transfer it all to disc."

He was irritated that she would talk to him. But his curiosity and an opportunity to talk down to her was too good to pass up. In between jabs concerning her unfamiliarity with basic technology and her reluctance to give any details about where the iPod came from (stolen, he suspected with admiration) he gave her the information she needed. He even brought in some equipment to help speed up the process when she confessed her home computer was paleolithic.

The night came when everything was ready. It took the whole weekend to burn the music onto DVDs. She carefully closed the DVDs in blank jewel cases and wrote _Never throw away. Never listen._ Then she deleted everything off her computer and the device. When everything had been doubly-erased and was gone for good, and the music DVDs were hidden in the back of her closet, Bella opened the champagne. It spilled, but she was ready for that. When the foaming stopped she tasted it.

Terrible. They had bought the dry kind of champagne. The bubbles bothered her nose, but she wanted to finish it. She took measured gulps and muttered to herself,

"Now _I'm_ erasing _you_."

By the time she finished the bottle she had spilled it on her shirt and banged her teeth on the lip of the bottle. She had champagne caught in her nose and had choked. She stood up, wobbling. When she turned her head there was a lag between the movement and the vision, and she felt dizzy. She had picked one of the few nights when Charlie worked late so she had the house to herself.

She carefully slid herself down the stairs like a child, keeping the bottle in her hand and not trusting her legs. Then she managed the locks on the front door and slid down the porch steps, landing on the gravel and giggling stupidly. When she finally stood up, she lurched towards the road. There were large boulders along the side of the road, marking the entrance to the Swan driveway, and she planned to destroy this bottle.

Bella woke up before dawn, safe in her bed. But her hands were bloody and her body gurgling in agony. She ran to the bathroom, hitting the door frame hard before she could get into the bathroom. The resulting storm was of such a magnitude that Bella had not known it possible. Her intestines wrung themselves dry and she once again retched the very depths of her stomach. Charlie stayed asleep. Bella didn't know how she got to bed, but wasn't going to ask.

She spent the morning laying on the cool tile until the next wave of nausea came, and then dutifully hollowing her stomach. She hoped that at some point it would be easy or boring, but it only got worse. She had to miss a day of school. The only plus side was that as things worsened, she never again turned to alcohol as a solution. The screaming, the blood, the vomit: these were some of Bella's bad days.

* * *

><p>Things fell apart over winter break. Without school to preoccupy her, she busied herself with as many domestic rituals as possible. She ran for hours in the snow, coming home wet with scrapes from falling.<p>

She attacked Christmas with robotic determination. Her plan was to overcome her apathy toward her depression with sheer will. Bella split in half, one half telling her to buck up, the other half frozen and bleak. When she wasn't frenetically buzzing around the small house washing light bulbs she was in the pantry, ordering the cans as though they were a library. First it was modeled after the food pyramid, then alphabetical order, but eventually her aestheticism won over and she arranged the cans in little dioramas of school portraits: tall in the back, short in the front. The buzzing belied her utter stillness. While running, she was nothing, and she told herself this in a seamless mantra. She thought she was fooling everyone.

On Christmas day, after Bella returned from a two hour run (_Where the hell was she going?_ Charlie wondered to himself) and a shower which involved ten minutes of staring at the water going down the drain, Charlie opened a gift box with micro-running shorts and socks so small they appeared to be booties for an infant. He looked at Bella. She was holding a tray with festive peppermint cocoa and her latest batch of cookies: cherry-nutmeg melt-aways.

"Bells. What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm being festive." She said. It would have been funny if Charlie weren't scared to death for his daughter.

"I can't recognize my daughter. Where did she go? Did you really wrap yourself so tight into that boy?" Bella felt a weakness in her stomach at the mention of her pain. It was a disturbing, protean sensation that she preferred to ignore. Physical exhaustion was better, clearer, and treatable.

"I found new pastimes. I'm re-inventing myself."

"Put the goddamned cookies down. You hated all this Christmas schmaltz."

Bella looked at the mugs of cocoa. She had made the marshmallows herself, and it had taken three tries to get the red dye to stripe correctly. The cookies were dusted with sugar, as if an edible blizzard had passed through the oven. She imagined the childhood dream of gingerbread houses and candy snow, where gumdrops were buttons and boys never left you without saying why.

"Listen, Bella," Charlie said. He was working himself up for this and she had a horrifying realization that he may have practiced these lines before. "I've been an enabler. I've watched you run yourself ragged trying to look happy, but no one is buying it. Look at the circles under your eyes. You look like hell."

Bella touched her face, "I could use foundation." Her voice was distant and weird.

"I know about the screaming and the nightmares, Isabella. You can't hide from me."

This is not what Bella wanted to hear. She shoved a cookie in her mouth and looked at the shiny wrapping paper scattered around the tree. She couldn't decide if she should clean it up or if it was supposed to remain scattered around like confetti. What was the protocol?

"Listen, after your mother, I went through hard times myself," Charlie began. Bella felt panic and disgust build in her with force and immediacy.

"No, Dad. I don't want to hear it."

"Therapy was the best thing for it. The stigma is all wrong, but I confess I was afraid to suggest it. Bella, you need this."

"I'm not going to a shrink," she snapped. Besides, she would never be able to be honest about her vampire ex-boyfriend. This was an impossible avenue to pursue.

"If you don't go to therapy," Charlie warned, "then I'm sending you home to Renee."

"This is my home!" Bella said with alacrity and alarm. "You don't want me?" She began to breathe fast and her vision blurred. _Either_, she thought to herself, _My father doesn't want me either_.

"No, Bella! No, no, no, it's not that." Charlie moved towards her and put his hand on her back, helping her bend her head between her legs and soothing her. She breathed deeply, fighting tears. _Don't cry in front of Charlie. Don't cry._

"Bella, I love you. I want to keep you, but I don't know what to do and you're scaring the hell out of me. You're an adult now so I can't legally force you to do what's right for you."

"I'll do anything, please," Bella panted, feeling the vulnerability creep back. She had been fighting so hard and she still felt weak and helpless. Even her father wanted to dump her.

"I just want you to be happy. Not even that, I want you to be Bella."

"I am Bella," she said weakly. It broke Charlie's heart hearing her say it like that.

"You're the debris left behind by that Cullen boy. You're more than him. You deserve to be happy," Charlie was repeating the things his own therapist had said to him. Unfortunately, he was not a skilled therapist and Bella wasn't listening.

"It's not about him. And I don't want to talk about it. I'll do better, I promise." She had been too festive, too bright. She would tone it down, try another avenue.

Charlie sank his head into his hands. Bella's mind raced, she knew she wasn't fixing anything. Then she remembered: Charlie and Renee had always wanted her to be like them.

"I'll go out with friends. I'll go to prom. I'll have fun."

"What friends?" Charlie said.

"Jessica. We're going to go to Silverdale when school starts up again and have a girls' night out."

"Since when?" He asked suspiciously, raising an eyebrow that was uncannily similar to his mustache.

"I've got friends, Dad. I'll be fine. I am fine." Bella ate another cookie and the conversation ended.

She worked at the sporting goods store after Christmas, looking forward to the busy hours as people scanned the mark-downs. There had been recent bear sightings and tall tales to match them, so the guns and bear-proof hiking gear were all in high demand. Apparently the bears were leaving their territory and coming closer to trail heads. Hippie hikers who were baked by the sun and suspicious dried substances often tried to tell Bella how big the bears were. Usually the answer was structurally impossible, but she enjoyed their gesticulations.

"How did it go, any good ones?" Mike asked her after the hippies had left.

"What?" She asked.

"The iPod? What happened to my wires?"

"Oh. I'm not going to listen to the music, I just wanted to wipe the device..." Her voice trailed off but Mike distinctly heard her mumble about a godforsaken hangover. She didn't know it, but she was hitting all his right buttons.

He had been watching her, noticing her thin wrists, slumped shoulders and her kevlar vest of low-self esteem. Stolen iPods, binge-drinking, dark circles under the eyes: she was beginning to become the kind of girl he enjoyed. He'd keep that in mind.

She was wearing a new pair of running tights and Mike made a comment about women with long legs.

"You couldn't handle it," she muttered, surprising herself. The words had come unbidden.

"You'd have to prove that before I'd believe it," he responded with a smarmy grin. In her head, Bella couldn't find the homonculus who had put those words in her mouth.

"We should hang out sometime after work." Bella said, knowing and not knowing what this meant. Charlie had said make friends, and a part of her wanted another reason to hate herself.

"What?" he repeated, incredulous.

"Yeah," she said, "hang out. When our shifts wrap up."

"I'm busy," Mike turned his shoulder away. The unpopular fat girl in Bella shrank away from the rejection and her familiar self-consciousness came crushing down on her. But then something incredible happened. She realized that she was already in hell. Every waking second of her life was miserable and despite her best efforts she was perpetually sad. If Mike rejected her, life couldn't be any worse. In a way, she was untouchable.

"Then we should hang out when you're _not_ busy," she insisted. "What are you doing, anyway?" Some kind of character had come back into her voice. It was pushy.

"It's none of your business. Go help out someone in running."

Bella left Mike alone, relieved to have dodged a bullet. But the revelation stuck. She was immune to pain because she was already mired in it. No one could hurt her more than Edward already had. When she got off work she called Jessica.

"Jessica? It's Bella Swan. We should hang out."

"What? Is this a joke?"

"No. We should hang out together."

"Why? Last time we talked you called me a chauvinist pig."

"Well you are. We should hang out anyway."

There was silence on the other end of the line.

"And do what?" Jessica sounded intrigued.

"Go to Silverdale. But my truck probably can't make it. I'll pay for gas and food."

"Wow. You are desperate."

"Apparently."

"Okay. When?"

"As soon as possible."

Bella had snagged a date. When she got home she told Charlie. He was unhappy. Her monotone hadn't changed and she still seemed robotic, but she ignored his displeasure. She'd show him. If she couldn't be supernatural then she'd have to be super normal.

* * *

><p>When the day came, Bella had a carefully numbered list planned. She knew she had to look the part. She asked herself, What would Renee do? Renee would look <em>cute<em>. This would be hard enough with Bella's cumbersome body type but even though she had sworn off Alice's fashion designs for life, she could still use some of the education she'd gleaned. She had a strapless bra from prom and a pair of jeans that were still flattering. She had a black turtleneck with a bleach stain on the stomach, so she covered it with a silk slip which she wore like a top, the lace trim hugging her hips. She let her hair down and put on some cheap make-up. She almost looked like an eighteen-year-old going out with friends.

She left a perfunctory note for Charlie and got in Jessica's car. They'd agreed to see a gory zombie movie together, though Jessica had wanted to see something where the shirtless men had intact abs. Jessica was in a not-warm-enough coat with black lace and black ruffles, her bust shoved up by the red and black corset top she wore under it. She was in head-to-toe Misfit mode.

"Since when do you listen to rap?" Jessica asked after Bella inserted her own CD.

"Since now." Bella responded. The songs had violent beats to match the lyrics. The genres moved from rap to scream-o and then vacuous pop songs—anything Edward hadn't already touched. Bella pushed away the critical part of her brain that tried to analyze the intentions of the artist. She didn't want intentions, she wanted the emotions that she couldn't feel anymore.

"You're more like a Misfit now than ever," Jessica smiled wryly, "maybe we'll take you back after all."

"Not with Mike around," Bella said, "At work he talks to me plenty when no one is in the store. But he wouldn't be caught dead talking to a giant freak."

"You watch out for him, Bella," Jessica warned, her voice more gentle that usual, "He's in it for the conquest. If he thinks you've got something he wants, he'll take it."

"Did he do that to you?" Bella drew this out: she knew that Jessica and Mike had hooked up a few times, but Jessica couldn't manage to keep her hooks in him.

Apparently, yes. Mike was a taker: he wanted it, he wanted to receive it, he didn't want to have to work for any of it. If you ever wanted something in return, you'd have to slave away, beg, and humiliate yourself for a taste. He was manipulative and stupid, and it irritated Jessica enough that she could complain about Mike for a solid hour, because by the time they were parking the car Jessica was still nit-picking his behavior. Jessica felt good confiding in Bella, they could hate men together.

Bella paid for the tickets and looked forward to a period of time when Jessica wouldn't be talking. She was starting to question her dedication to the task of friend acquisition if it involved this much bitching.

The movie wasn't gory enough. The female lead was always trying to pull her love interest away from the distraction of the zombie apocalypse, demanding more attention and affection. Her ignorance of their dire situation and her single-minded attachment to the male lead made Bella queasy. Jessica noticed and teased Bella about it.

"Oh my God, you aren't going to cry about Edward at a _zombie_ movie are you?"

"Shut it." Bella snapped angrily. She was emotionless, feeling only varying levels of discomfort. Tears were not an option but anger apparently was. When the hero and the heroine escaped the zombies together and looked about ready to consummate their love Bella left the theater for good, telling Jessica she'd wait in the lobby.

Although her recent realization that she was in hell and thereby invincible was liberating, it brought an unfortunate wakefulness. Until now, she had been numb and silent. Now her brain had turned back on, and it wouldn't shut up. The zombies were meant to be a distraction, but her mind reminded Bella that she had once desired to be a reanimated corpse, just with better motor skills. Prettier. She distracted herself by carefully examining a movie poster for an animated children's movie. It was about polar bears saving Christmas.

Jessica came out of the theater and immediately found Bella.

"You aren't any fun at all. You missed the final sex scene, it was super hot." Bella shrugged at this,

"Let's go eat," she muttered.

"Okay, Bella," Jessica snapped, fed up, "brooding was Edward's thing. On you it looks dumb."

"I'm sorry if my emotional disturbance pisses you off, Jessica." Bella said flatly. "Now let's go eat something."

"Yeah, let's go drown our sorrows with food," Jessica sneered.

This whole night had been a mistake. Bella could feel a new emotion emerging, one that was unfamiliar: rage. Her voice remained monotone and hollow, but something about her intensity made Jessica shrink at Bella's words.

"Piss off, Jessica. I'll get a taxi. Just leave me alone." As Jessica stared, open-mouthed, Bella whirled on her heel and left the theater. There wouldn't be any taxis in this part of Silverdale, and she'd need to find an ATM in order to get enough cash for the long ride home. She ignored the mincing sound of Jessica's sixty-dollar skull-girl platform heels running after her.

"Bella! Calm down, I was kidding! Bella! Hey!"

Bella did stop, but not for Jessica. She was passing a bar and there were a few men sitting on the curb of the parking lot drinking their beers; spillover from a crowded night. Something about the men made her curious.

Then she remembered.

These boys wore the same clothes and had the same demeanor as the ones who had approached Bella by the woods half a year ago. Back when she was a little heavier in body but lighter in her heart. She stepped towards the group, not sure whether she wanted to claw out their eyes or sit down and drink with them (so long as it wasn't champagne). She knew that going towards them implied something, but she wouldn't let herself think about what that was.

"Bella! Hey, where are you going?" Jessica had caught up with her.

"Hold on," Bella muttered, stepping forward. The boys had seen her and one of them nodded toward her while saying something to his friend. They were holding beer cans and looked as though they had been drinking for awhile.

"Hey, girl." One of them said, nodding towards her. She looked wild, her eyes black as her hair and her unusual body attractively weak. The men were interested in this emotionally toxic aspect of Bella; they wanted something that they could control. Bella stepped forward again and was about to respond when she heard a voice that gripped her heart.

"What are you doing?" _Edward?_ She thought to herself, whirling to look behind her. All she could see was Jessica, whose wide-eyed expression showed trepidation. She spun back to face the group, now intrigued by her confusion. She took another step forward.

"Stop, Bella. You promised." _Edward!_ She had found him again. Not a memory of him or an imagined voice, but him. It was Edward. His voice was full and complex, layered and beautiful. It would hurt like hell to follow this line, to let him back in even for an instant, but she was so hungry for him. _Why did you kill me, Edward?_ She asked, _Why did you hollow me out? __You promised it would be a clean break, that I'd forget you._ She moved forward with purpose, angry with Edward and eager to hear him speak again. _Come back and finish me off. Let me die inside you._

"Turn around right now," the voice said, and Bella could hear notes of worry and anger, "They are drunk and dangerous." This other Edward, the crazy one in her head, he still cared for her. This one hadn't meant to eat her heart. This one was still trying to keep her alive.

"What's up, girl? You want a drink with us?" One of the guys yelled, breaking Bella's thoughts. He had a pot-belly under his sports jersey and a snaggle-toothed grin. He had probably been handsome once.

"I'm too young," she responded automatically, mentally kicking herself for the slip. The group appeared confused by this and their interest quickly began to wane. They turned back to each other and ignored her. Bella took a tentative step forward but the voice was silent. The danger had passed and Edward had left her.

"Bella?" Jessica's voice was a loud whisper, carrying fear and bewilderment. Bella stepped towards the group of boys again and said,

"What are you drinking, anyway?" One of them turned around and looked Bella up and down.

"PBR. Want some?"

"Don't invite danger into your life," the voice warned. _Come back to me, vampire boy_. She thought to herself before answering aloud,

"Yes, I would like some."

"Well then buy your own goddamned can!" The guy laughed and then turned back to his friends. Bella waited for the voice to return, but when nothing happened she retreated to Jessica. Super-normal was boring anyway. Insanity held Edward.

"Sorry, I thought I knew them."

"Them? They were, like, _old_! They must have been in their thirties, Bella." Jessica said in awe. "How did you know _them_?"

"I didn't. It was a mistake. C'mon, let's go get some fries." Bella led the stunned Jessica to a seafood joint and ordered herself a milkshake. Jessica was prattling about how awesome it would be to get with an older man, though Bella had seen the terror in her eyes. Bella was beginning to think that a lot of Jessica's talk was just that, and that she wasn't nearly as easy or sex-crazed as she let on. But it was another topic that Jessica could monopolize and it left Bella space to think.

She wanted to hear Edward again. She wanted to scream at him, yell at him, and she wanted to feel like he cared about her safety. As they drove back to Forks Bella feigned sleep so that she could plan.

It must have been her subconscious. She hadn't let herself think of Edward for months, and although she could feel herself turn greedy for his memories she kept a tight leash on her emotions. She wanted Edward so badly, but she wanted him minus _that day_, before he examined her closely and realized she was worthless. Jessica had turned on the radio while Bella was pretending to sleep. Songs that Edward had introduced to Bella, and songs that he had played her on his piano began to filter into the car. Bella decided it was time to pretend to wake up. She turned down the volume.

"Thanks for the night, Jessica," she said, faking a yawn.

"Um, yeah. Whatever." Jessica responded.

"Did you like the movie?"

"Bella, you're really messed up."

"Aren't all your friends messed up?"

"Yeah, but you should seek help or something. You freaked me out tonight."

"I thought you liked older men. What's there to freak out about?"

"There was something _wrong_ with them, Bella. They were drunk and creepy. What's your problem? You're so effed up."

"Maybe I'll sit with you guys on Monday?" Bella said. She had nothing to lose anymore, the Misfits couldn't harm her.

"Ask Mike," Jessica evaded, "you're freaking me out with how depresso you are."

They were at the Swan residence in ten minutes and parted without any further words.

* * *

><p>"Where the hell were you?" Charlie met her at the door.<p>

"I left a note. My cell phone was on, and you didn't call me." There was a light in her eyes and a glint to her smile. She looked a little mischievous and happy with a secret. Plus, she was dressed up. Charlie screwed his mouth into a frown.

"I was going to if you didn't return home soon," he said warily, "so you went out with Jessica?"

"Yeah. We watched zombies eat each other. It was fun."

Bella's attitude was different. Charlie let her go, apparently satisfied for the present. He didn't like Jessica, but he was desperate for Bella to get some friends.

Bella went straight to the bathroom and took cold medicine. There wasn't much left, she would have to buy more if she didn't want Charlie to notice her occasional habit to help her sleep. It was the only way she could avoid the nightmares, but it didn't always work and the more she used it the worse she felt in the mornings. But she'd need it tonight. She showered, turning the heat as high as she could stand, and let the medicine run its course.

She jerked awake in the middle of the night, her heart beating wildly. She hadn't been dreaming, at least she couldn't remember anything. It was three in the morning, too early to get up. She tried to fall asleep for another hour to no avail. School would begin in a few days, until then she was left with bricks of time stacked ominously before her. It was easier to pass time unconscious, but it didn't look like that would happen now.

After last night her brain was awake too, shaken from its stupor. Perhaps that's why the hallucination was so vivid, but it also meant that the dull pain which she'd successfully kept at a distance was now leaking into her reality. She felt the edges of it close suffocating around her, threatening to smother her in negation.

She got up and decided to go for a run. She grabbed the re-loaded iPod and left a note in case Charlie woke up, though he would most likely sleep in today. While she was running she passed a house with a heap of metal tangled in the front yard. She slowed out of curiosity and saw it was a pair of motorcycles, stacked on top of each other with a sign that said "Free or Trash". She could hear a memory of Charlie asking Bella to promise to never ride a motorcycle because they were reckless. The memory pulled her towards the metal. Would these work? She reached out to pick up the sign and look at the bikes, and the voice was loud this time,

"Stop it, Bella! Don't even think about it!" _There you are_, she thought to herself. She smiled cruelly and thought to herself, _Oh, Edward-in-my-head you have to be fake to be this stupid. Still, you are enough for now_. He had answered her question for her. She turned around to run back home and get the truck. Those bikes would be hers, because Edward told her no. Hopefully he, or her subconscious, wouldn't try reverse psychology in the future.

She continued her run, ecstatic and glowing happier than she had been in months. The plan was unformed, but she knew that she could get Edward back in some way, even if it meant she was losing her grip on reality. That was fine by her. It was best if she didn't think about her ultimate intentions with these motorcycles. For now, she wanted to get Edward in her head so that she could drown in the honey-warmth of his voice. A slow, sticky death.

When she brought her truck to pick up the bikes the owner helped her load them both into the truck bed.

"Between the two of them you might be able to build one whole bike, but it will take a skilled mechanic." He nodded at her truck, "That is a fine old machine. Did your daddy work on it? He can help you with these things."

Bella hid her anger at the condescension, and before she could snap a response she remembered something else.

"No," she said sweetly, "my friend rebuilt this. He can work magic with old metal." Her mind was working again, and the feeling was exhilarating and freeing. She was in control now.

When Charlie came down for breakfast Bella was making pancakes. But what made him stumble wasn't her domesticity, it was that she was singing and flipping the pancakes in the air.

"Oh! Charlie, I put some of the pancakes in the microwave, you can nuke them with butter." Her voice was childish and high, and she flipped the cakes with gusto, giggling when she landed them.

"Don't call me _Charlie_, I'm your father, not your buddy," Charlie muttered as Bella sang to herself. He warmed the pancakes and took the freshly flipped one that she gave him and sat down with his coffee.

"I take it you had fun last night?"

"Sorry, _Dad_. Yeah, it was okay, but I don't think I like that crowd. I was hoping to visit Jacob Black today, actually, but I need directions to the rez. I haven't been there in awhile."

Charlie nearly choked. His mustache soaked up butter and syrup, undermining his authoritative scowl.

"Are you toying with me, Bella?" he asked angrily.

"What?" Bella turned around, honestly confused, "I thought you liked Jacob and his family."

"I do. You're acting too… good. You're happy too fast," he said with suspicion. Bella rolled her eyes and flipped two more pancakes, the last of the batter.

"I'm not _happy_, Dad. But I think Jacob might be nice to hang out with for awhile. I just had a really good run this morning. Don't ruin it, okay?"

Bella sat and ate breakfast with her dad. She only had two pancakes, leaving him to deal with the rest. She was already dressed and took advantage of Charlie's weakness for warm pancakes to keep him locked in the kitchen while she drove the truck—and the two motorcycles in its bed—away.


	4. Jacob and Riot Conditioning

_**Author's** **Note**_**:**_ Love him or hate him, this is Jacob's novel and his time to shine. Let me know what you think of this guy. To get a better idea of who Jacob is in his time away from Bella, I made an angsty-teen mix of music that my Jacob character would rock out to. You can find it in the Appendix because I think people should be able to share musical tastes. Also, moose are terrifying._

At first, Jacob agreed to help her fix up the bikes because of his Dudley Do-Right alter ego. He was helpful to a fault, and when Bella showed up looking like she'd taken a spin in a washing machine, he felt his hero-side kick in. Calls for help didn't get much louder than Bella Swan. They'd gone through the initial shock of seeing how the other had changed, though there was a lot of graceful lying on Jacob's part. He wasn't about to say, "Jesus, Bella, you look like hell." Instead, he had collected her into his arms for one of his brotherly hugs and said, "I thought you looked too pretty to be Charlie."

For her part, Bella was embarrassed to have to comment on Jacob's growth spurt. As over-grown confederates, she felt it was a betrayal to point out the obvious, but he had shot up six inches since she'd last saw him. Jacob was used to the shock of his size, though it puzzled him as well. He'd not only grown taller, but he had been monitoring himself carefully and he'd inexplicably grown more muscular. Ever since Sam Uley had been stealing away his running partners, Jacob hadn't been exercising as much as he used to and couldn't account for the weight gain. He'd been distantly thinking on this when Bella surprised him.

"I run, too!" She blurted, holding a gummy piece to the Harley Sprint in one hand, an expression of childish excitement on her pasty, gaunt face. They were in his shed, hiding from the rain and going over the miscellaneous bits of grimy motorcycle that they'd dragged in. Her brief exhilaration was immediately replaced by shyness as she amended, "Well, not very fast. But I can run for a really long time now."

Bella didn't want to feel better, in fact, by asking Edward to haunt her, she wanted to get worse. She didn't want to get over him, move past him, or recover any of her previous vitality. But there was still a scrap of self-preservation in the girl, and it was this torn and tattered dignity which suggested that she, a frumpy fat girl, become the running partner of Jacob I'm-sorta-turning-into-a-god Black. Amazingly, he agreed. He even let her in on his own secret, now that they were conspiring in his ramshackle shed to build up motorcycles behind Charlie's back.

"Bella Swan," he intoned with his clipped, low voice, the one he reserved for story-telling, "There is much you do not know about me. I work out every day doing a variety of ancient and mysterious exercises. To you I can pass these secrets, train you how to escape a wild moose or break free of a riot."

"A riot?" Bella asked with glistening curiosity. She was having a hard time focusing on cleaning the bike parts he had handed her, and she had utterly failed to remember that she was working toward furthering her dysfunction, not curing it.

Jacob stood, an impressive feat in and of itself, and within the tiny shed he began to act out wild gesticulations and strike warrior poses.

"One must know how to escape a riot, Bella Swan! Imagine you are sipping a double-cafe-mocha-java in Seattle, and a hooligan breaks into the little shop. He throws tables, he throws punches, there is coffee everywhere! What do you do?" His eyes were wide as he paused between acts of flipping imaginary tables. Bella was rapt. "You take him down! Caffeine slows pain onset and you are a fighter! You stop that riot before it begins! You protect yourself, sweep the legs of that hooligan, and then you run like the wind before the cops show up. Or," he paused, nodding toward the modern art pieces which he would resurrect as motorcycles, "you can ride away on one of our fine crotch-rockets."

Bella was giggling. Bella Swan, the girl whose running mantra was _I am nothing but this pain_ was giggling. Jacob joined in, his laugh deeper than the previous year but still buoyant. It fed her own, and soon things were pressing against her ribs, emotions heating her face as the laughter turned into coughs and then half-choked tears. And she didn't scare him away. The giant sat down beside her, a hand on her heaving shoulder, and let her cry. When she seemed to be calming down he handed her a mostly-clean rag and she sighed,

"God, I need a riot so bad." She ran her fingers through the twists and knots of her horrible frizzed-out hair. Then Jacob said the shibboleth, the one thing he could utter which would permanently endear Bella to him.

"I've got a plan."

* * *

><p>"Once you clean all the gunk off, start sanding the rust." Together they passed an hour listening to the rain come and go against the plastic shed. Jacob would occasionally mutter to himself, trying to figure out where some of the parts came from and whether the Honda motorcycle was salvageable or if all their effort should go toward the Sprint. The rain stopped, the shed felt warm and familiar, and then there was a fox-yip.<p>

Jacob craned his neck with a grin and yipped back, wiping his hands on a rag. He gave Bella short warning before his last two friends showed up: Quil and Embry. They were it. The last of the teens who hadn't been pulled into Sam Uley's gang. When Jacob revealed that Bella had been initiated into the idea of Quileute karate and riot conditioning, she felt a flush of panic. They could laugh at her, reject her, make fun of her. But, she remembered, she was invincible. Bella drew her emotionless cloak around her.

"Well, we gotta see her base line," said Quil or Embry. It was the shorter one, kind of stocky and compact. There was more yipping and it looked like their work on the bikes would be temporarily abandoned, at least while the rain held off. Embry and Quil led the way, talking about things Bella couldn't quite hear except to know that it was about them and not her. Jacob lowered his head, whispering as they took the path to Quil's house.

"It's going to be kind of embarrassing but you have to do it so you won't cheat yourself later."

"What is it?" She asked, hoping she was hiding the creeping horror in her voice.

"We're going to see what level you are at right now. Then, after a few months of riot conditioning, you can try it again and measure your progress. Embry!" Jacob called, "Do you have your phone?" The tall, skinny one with chin-length hair nodded. _Okay, so the skinny one is Embry_, she tried to memorize. Quil led them to The Gym, which was just his own shed except with a few free weights and a chin-up bar.

"We're minimalistic," he explained. Bella nodded absentmindedly, gym class nightmares slowly resurfacing. They would pick a half dozen exercises and count how many she could do of each with good form. Quil and Jacob were the most talkative, teaching her how to balance for a squat or instructing her on where to put her hands for a push-up. Embry kept tally on his phone and played the cheerleader. She thought to herself, _It isn't that hard to count to one,_ and then concentrated on not collapsing in front of the boys.

Somewhere after thirty squats, she realized that Embry wasn't the only one cheering. Her posture faltered around fifty, and the boys threw her high fives and yips like they were actually proud of her. She eyed them suspiciously. These boys could probably do a million repetitions, but they didn't sound condescending. She had overheated and had to take off her sweatshirt, which resulted in more cheers, but only because her t-shirt was a thrift-store Wolves Howling at Moon knock-off. There was even a dream catcher faded into the background. They loved it.

Again she surprised herself with sit-ups, Jacob holding her feet and reminding her to breathe. The push-ups, though modified into "girly" were a disappointment. She clearly remembered doing two in gym class at the beginning of the year, but now she could barely eke out one. Still, there was applause and yipping, as though she were putting on a good show. When she hoped it was all over, Embry struck up a drumroll and Quil began a low, ghostly moan.

_Pull ups_.

"I can't do that," Bella said, staring up at the bar. Jacob shook his head.

"There is no _can't_, grasshopper," he said. Then, switching back to sensible English, he explained she would do a negative pull-up, lowering herself down as slowly as possible rather than pulling herself up. Jake would just lift her up to the bar and she'd fight her way down.

Jacob? _Lift_ her? No.

"Is it okay if I touch you?" He asked. _No_. _I'm fat and squishy._

"Yeah, okay," she said. Let him feel her love handles and flabby midsection, she was Invincible. But he just put his hands on her hips and said, "Ready?" before hoisting her up to the top of the bar.

Even though she hadn't done anything, Bella felt like a million dollars. She was at the top of the chin-up bar! Before her elation could grow, Quil ruined it by shouting,

"Fight the good fight!" and suddenly she was supporting her own weight, struggling against gravity to lower her huge frame back toward the ground in a slow, controlled motion. She thought she was going to burst. She honestly thought she might crap herself. It was not a slow or controlled motion at all, but her arms burned and her core tightened. Then Jacob lifted her,

"Again!" He shouted as the boys cheered.

"Breathe!" Shouted Embry.

"Yip, yeee-yip!" Shrieked Quil. They were really into this. Bella's arms gave out halfway through the third repetition, so she only had two negative pull-ups to her name, but she was beaming. She couldn't raise her arms for the high fives, but the boys were crowded around her, crowing and yipping and congratulating her with real enthusiasm. She made a pathetic mimic of their yips in return and they just blew up.

"Tomorrow," grinned Jacob, "we test your mile."

* * *

><p>The next morning she felt weak and exhausted. Her body craved nutrition and her muscles were trembling jelly. She ignored breakfast, enjoying the tangible hollow in her center. It gave her pleasure, feeling the edges of hunger—it wasn't amorphous and terrifying like the black hole that swallowed her in the nighttime. She met Jacob at the reservation just as the sun was rising. She wore a mixture of clothes purchased with an employee discount and sweats salvaged from the thrift store. She noticed that aside from sweatpants and a t-shirt he was barefoot.<p>

"You run without shoes? In the woods?"

"I was taught young. Don't worry, I won't make you take your shoes off," he smiled. Bella pulled off her sweatshirt, even though it was early January she knew that she would overheat. Jacob let out a whistle. "I like you in day-glo, it will keep away the hunters."

"So will the sound of me crashing into bracken," Bella muttered.

"I'll teach you to run on the front of your feet, silent and swift like a ninja. How are you feeling after yesterday?" She decided not to tell him that this was only slightly better than the massive hangover she'd incurred months earlier, but Jake still got the idea. She felt nervous, still waiting for Jacob to realize she was a fat, ugly mess and not worth his time or energy. Her running had increased dramatically since Edward had abandoned her, yet she had gained weight and lost definition. She felt like an anomaly.

The moment came where she would be timed for her mile, and she let herself enter deep into the trance of her foot-falls. _This is all I am_, she told herself, _I am always this_.

"Eleven-forty-three! That's better than I expected," he smiled. "We'll get you under ten in no time."

Bella shook her head, laughing and getting her breath back. She wasn't used to running at a faster pace, and her lungs protested against the extra work. Her body shook and trembled, and she briefly felt dizzy, but she refused to look weak in front of Jacob. Then the two of them were running again, slowly this time. He would run ahead beside her or watch her form, telling her when she should shift her weight forward and pick up her heels, just to try it out.

"You should do this for a living," she panted after twenty minutes.

"I aim to. Fixing cars and fixing bodies. I'm going to get out of here, go to a good college, and start a new life." Bella knew that he would succeed. There was so much good in Jacob. She didn't think about her own future anymore. She had no ambitions.

They chatted while running, but because Jacob was in better shape he held up most of the conversation. Bella found answers to the question she had been asking in her head: Why was someone as handsome and charismatic as Jacob _lonely_? Quil and Embry were all that were left for him, and they still didn't spend much time together. He didn't go to parties, didn't go on dates, and apparently wasn't nearly as charming at school as he was around Bella.

The others were scared of him. He was a raw wound in the tribe, a young boy who had nothing but grief served to him time and again. His father was a powerful figure, imbued with mysterious blood that lent a haze of respect to the boy. After Sarah died, Jake never got to be a kid. As Sam Uley's gang grew in popularity, old superstitions and tribal hierarchies returned. In school he was Jacob Black, whose mother was killed in a gruesome accident, whose sisters abandoned him because they couldn't stand their father's grief. Jacob Black who took in work to support his unemployed amputee father. He grew up too fast, was unrelatable to the others.

Outside of school, under the careful watch of Sam Uley, he was _the next_. He was the last line of the chiefs, the only heir. When Sarah was killed he took up exercise, running, and study. He practiced the Quileute language and listened in on conversations between Billy and the others. Jacob was lonely because he was powerful. He was a small-town hero.

"Okay, push-ups!" Jacob said suddenly.

"What? On the ground?"

"Yeah, why not on the ground?" Apparently the twenty minutes of jogging after her "sprint" had been part of the warm up. Now, as they ran back to Jacob's place, they would stop every few minutes and Bella would do one push-up. He explained that he had a plan to get her doing push-ups every single day until she could do one-hundred in a single set. She wondered if Jacob might be lonely because _he was crazy_.

When they got back to the shed it was raining lightly. Jacob insisted that they stretch in the shed before going inside and as they let their breathing slow down Bella looked around her. Jacob had taken the motorcycles apart and laid out some of the parts on blankets in neat rows.

"Woah," she breathed, still catching her breath.

"Yeah, I get a little obsessive when I have a project." He smiled and sat on one of the blankets, toweling off his feet and changing into socks and work boots. He noticed how Bella was stretching and rubbing her leg and asked the question before he could remember the answer.

"Is something wrong with that leg?"

"It was a clean break, but the weather makes it sore," Bella said slowly, unsure whether Billy gossipped with his son or not.

"Oh," he shook his head and gave a self-conscious laugh, "I'm sorry. I knew that. Dad mentioned you got hurt. I'm sorry I didn't visit, but Dad was really… insufferable. Here, do you mind?" He gestured for her to sit down and took the leg into his lap, poking around at her calf muscle and slowly rotating the ankle.

"Where does it hurt?" He asked. She explained that it wasn't bad, just a bone soreness she always got while running. He ran the blade of his hand along her shin, perhaps looking for signs of the break: he found nothing. He placed a hand on her calf, feeling the muscle seize and then relax. The warmth of his hand seeped into her muscle.

"You heard about last spring?" She asked. Jacob had been open with her, she felt indebted somehow.

"Dad wanted to tell me, but I asked him not to talk about you." Jacob had let his hair down and the glossy curtain was hiding his expression. Bella had done that once; she, too, had been afraid of a monster. She bit her lip. It was wrong to bring her mess to someone like Jacob.

"He gets crazy when you let him go on about old stories, he really had it out for you for awhile." He gave a grim smile, "It's weird loving a bigot."

"Your dad's not a bigot," she whispered, withdrawing her leg.

Bella's stomach made a nasty complaining sound and she leaned against the side of the shed, feeling drained. She needed some food, badly. The pleasant jagged edges of hunger had turned into queasiness and nausea. Instead of controlling her body she felt a slave to it again. Jacob stood up, his knees cracking. He stretched his back and yawned; it was impressive.

"Sounds like we need some breakfast!" He slapped his stomach, happy to change the subject. Bella would have settled for a banana and some milk, maybe a bowl of cereal.

"Nonsense," Jacob said, opening the shed door so they could dart back to the house. "I'm going to make you a real breakfast." He handed her a browning banana when they got inside and filled an old jar with water, telling her to drink _All of it_, and giving her a pointed look.

She sat down, inordinately grateful for the invention of chairs, and let the tiny fruit nourish her. She flexed a little: her leg did feel better. Jacob ate his banana in just two bites, but appeared preoccupied with the cast-iron skillet.

She made lame excuses, embarrassed to have Jake feed her. But he had the skillet hot and was tossing beans and eggs onto the sizzling pan. She remembered when she had tried to take care of Renee, saving bills and receipts, insisting on doing their "math homework" together. But Jacob outdid himself with Billy. He bought pounds of dried beans and pre-cooked them. She noticed the bar in Billy's doorway—low enough for Billy to grab from his chair and do his own pull-ups. Jacob was healing his father, fighting back the diabetes.

She was keenly aware of Billy and Jacob's penury. It was at that moment Bella resolved to pay him in groceries.

"Tell me more about becoming a fixer of cars and bodies," she asked over breakfast.

"The cars pay the bills. I already have a small side business to help us out. But the bodies, that feeds me. There's a lot of sickness on the rez, of all kinds: body and mind. We don't really have the money to deal with it, and there is still a lot of shame surrounding that kind of stuff."

He explained the gruesome statistics, the heart attacks and cancer, the alcoholism and diabetes. He had to drive all the way to Forks for fresh food, but he could just walk to the store and get an armful of fried pies and pop.

"You make the reservation sound pretty uninviting. Five minutes ago I was going to ask if I could transfer to your school."

"What's wrong with Forks High?" He asked, his eyes serious. Bella could see the scary Jacob now, the one who knew more pain than a sixteen-year-old should. She told him about the bullying, the rumors. After her public breakdown and the Cullens' departure, her strangely shifting body hadn't gone unnoticed. The gastric-bypass rumors gave way to pregnancy gossip. Stretch marks that she'd had her whole life were suddenly the hot topic in the locker room, as was her sagging stomach. Suddenly the whole school understood why something as beautiful as a Cullen would date trashy Bella Swan: she was a slut.

"Do they threaten you?" He asked, his voice distant. No, there were never threats. Nothing more than shame and ridicule. The Cullens had taught her to let the words of the ignorant fall off her, but recently Bella had resorted to her reassurance that she was already in hell. She was invincibly miserable.

"Bella," Jacob said carefully, "don't engage them. Don't give them the satisfaction of a reaction. But you have to report them. You don't owe them anything." She nodded.

"Do you report Sam Uley? Does Billy know?" She asked, shifting the conversation. Sam waited outside of school and watched Jacob and his friends. He was "a hall monitor on steroids" and gave Jake the creeps. Jacob gave a low laugh and took the dishes to the sink.

"Dad is a number-one fan. He thinks Sam could teach me plenty about _manhood_." Too much. They had shared too much for now.

"C'mon," Bella said, standing, "teach me some manly stuff about engines." When Jacob turned around he had a broad grin on his face, too big for his features. Any trace of the scary, over-grown Jacob was gone. He was just an eager grease monkey now. He took down his ponytail and then retied it, a gesture of preparedness.

"All right!" he clapped, "Let's do this!"

The next few hours they spent cleaning off the parts as Jacob explained what they were. Bella wouldn't be able to remember all the information, but she tried anyway. Jacob was meticulous. He had dissembled the bulky machines and made a mental list of the bad parts. After four hours of this Bella's head was too jam-packed and she began to lose some of the crucial knowledge she had been acquiring. Jacob quickly noticed this.

"Okay! How about we pack some lunch and go on a road trip?"

"Good plan," Bella yawned, following Jacob inside and changing out of her grimy clothes. She realized that she probably smelled bad, but Jacob didn't seem to care. On her way to the bathroom Billy shared a look with Bella that she tried to ignore. She didn't like being around him ever since Edward had left: he was too smug. She remembered the phone call about the celebratory bonfires and had a crazy image of Billy, wheeled into the woods, hollering and covered in paint. It probably wasn't true, but she guessed that if he could walk he would have lit those fires in an instant.

She found Jacob reheating soup and he tossed her a loaf of bread to cut up. Bella wasn't used to heavy bread, and she noticed that the Blacks (or, more likely, Jacob) only ever bought ingredients. They were going to go get some parts for the bikes, and something felt reassuring and beautiful about preparing soup for a trip. Billy sat in the narrow doorway, watching the two of them work together in the kitchen.

"You kids working on cars now?" He asked in his friendly rumble. Bella guessed that Jacob's voice would sound like that in a few decades.

"I'm showing Bella how to take care of her truck when she goes away for college." The lie was so smooth that it startled Bella. She blushed a little to herself but she couldn't understand why.

"And I've needed a running partner ever since Sam's been snapping up all my friends."

"Sam's been asking you to run with him," Billy said in a voice that had weight. Bella guessed she was hearing a re-hash of a familiar conversation, "He asks about you at the meetings."

"Yeah, well I don't want to be around _him_, okay?" There was silence. Bella swept breadcrumbs into her hand and Jacob told her to dump them in the soup.

"You want to eat with us, Dad?"

"Naw, just leave me some on the stove. I'll have it later." Billy wheeled away.

"Sorry you had to see that," Jacob muttered when Billy was out of earshot.

"If that was what it looks like when the two of you fight," Bella shrugged, "then you shouldn't be apologizing. He bugs me, too," the words came unbidden, and the memories beside them.

"I'm sorry," she and Jacob said at the same time, leading to an awkward laugh.

"I didn't particularly like the Cullens," he said, facing away from her, "but Dad had no business trying to tell you how to live. When he gets on about the traditions and old stories he can be unbearable."

"Where do you sit with the traditions?" Bella asked in curiosity. Jacob shifted his eyes towards the living room. The house had barely enough room for Billy's wheelchair, and almost no privacy. Bella got the idea and grabbed her things.


	5. Mancanza: The attraction of the void

You could block a telepath if you knew the right techniques. Push something new to the surface, something scrambled or perverse and distracting. The thing stories never get right about mind-reading is how difficult the mind is. It is not a vault of movie clips, music, or neatly filed essays. The mind is a mire, filled with shouting and quixotic flashes of information laced with implied meaning. It is a constant series of in-jokes and blurred impressions, and Edward couldn't just break his way into Alice's head and grab what he wanted.

"Is she getting better?" He demanded, frustrated by the unlocked secrets in his sister's brain. He could only gather impressions of palpable loss and one word that Alice's head-voice reiterated in a loop: _mancanza_. Edward knew what the word meant, _lack_. It was an abstract noun with all the weight and demands of a concrete one. It was a presence and an entity, this Nothingness. And it shadowed Bella in Alice's head.

"Edward," Alice began, selecting her words carefully in order to maintain a mental block, "I can't answer you when you ask the wrong questions."

"Stop trying to sound mystical, Alice!" He shouted, "Is she going to make it?"

Alice prepared her answer, carefully laying the visions before him.

"She and Jacob Black seek each other's comfort," she intoned, selecting images, "he is blind to her. They are using each other. Nevertheless a friendship is forming, one which could cut either of them. She is unrecognizable, Edward. The girl you have sent me to follow is no longer Bella."

He saw Bella collapsed on the gravel driveway in the beams of Charlie's headlights, and the silent father coaxing the drunken, bleeding giantess back to her room, trying to clean the glass from her hands. He saw her grim determination while running aimless miles on a leg that had once been snapped and pinned. He saw a freakish image of Bella, sobbing and laughing in an unknown garage, and someone else's hand reaching out to console her. He saw motorcycles, the blank stare when Bella was called a _slut_ in the hallways, and then the image of Jacob Black lifting her up, up, up to the top of a chin-up bar.

"You and Jacob have a common enemy in Billy," Alice continued, "but you know as well as I do that the reservation is on a precipice." The one-square-mile of land left to the Quileutes, a school of children only meters away from the capricious waters. Edward saw it, though he had not been there in decades. He had seen it through others, always from a distance, but he knew the dangers. A tsunami to slaughter the families. The creeping death of poverty and disease. Even their language was dying. He knew that the balance of the rare people was tenuous. But it was firmer than the life he had offered her, so he told himself.

Yet this was not what Alice meant. She pushed a paradox upon him. There was a black hole, sucking and swallowing up the young men of the tribe. Jacob walked a narrow beach between a raging ocean and an abyss. Something, _Nothing_, the _mancanza_ that followed Bella, was also at the reservation. And it was growing, consuming lives and stealing them away from Alice's sight. If Bella stayed with Jacob she would be at the whims of the water. Or she would be pulled into the Nothing.

"What is that?" He asked, unsure whether she was deciphering her vision well enough for him to understand.

"Jacob sees only the water and the coming waves," she continued in that dreadful voice, "he does not see the abyss at his back. But his hollow is drawn to Bella's. There is a great conflation of the Nothing in the future. There is a possibility, ever-growing, that he will disappear like the others. And he will bring Bella with him."

"She'll escape Forks," he insisted, remembering the girl who fell asleep with books sprawled around her, an ambitious Bella. "He's not her only future. She'll go make something of herself elsewhere."

"Why would she ever leave now?" Alice asked sadly. A ghost-image of Bella reflected in a pane of glass, standing in the sea of overgrown wild grasses. A tell-tale heart beating in the floorboards of her bedroom, yet unheard. The slow procession of her bare feet along the wood, beneath which lay Edward and the memories he hid from her. She knew and she did not know. She could not leave that room, though she did not know that it was because he had hidden the notes, the flowers and the photos beneath her floor. She had bound herself to Forks already.

Alice had worked harder on this investigation than any other. Even when she had sought to understand her own past she had not exerted the same energy and obsessive detailing. Alice pushed a scene forward, her brain translating it to Edward.

"Hee hee! C'mon, boy," Billy was grinning in a darkened kitchen, "go to that bonfire for me." He giggled and clapped his hands, giving praise in Quileute.

"I'm not going, Dad," Jacob said in a voice that was still tinged by the high-pitch of youth. His head was in his hands, obscuring his face at the kitchen table.

"Aw, c'mon, Jake! The girl's okay. Those demons aren't around to break her legs anymore! We must celebrate—"

"Don't talk about her." Jacob stood and walked past Billy to go to his room. Before he shut the door he turned to say one last thing to his gloating father.

"You lost the one doctor who could have turned us around, Dad. That hospital was going to save us."

Alice watched her emaciated brother absorb the information and images. She waited for him to ask more but he seemed too tired. He had not eaten since….

"She is still affecting us, Edward," Alice whispered softly. "So long as we keep watch over her, life will not return to black and white."

Jacob was not bad, he was not the villain. Yet he was also not good, unable to see past Bella's outside in order to love her enough. His existence threatened Bella's, but she was harming herself enough on her own. _Is she going to make it_ was black and white, but Alice's visions were only gray.

* * *

><p>In Bella's truck Jacob picked up the conversation again.<p>

"Dad doesn't get that I'm really proud of our traditions. Like, _really_ proud. I want to fix people and clean up the reservation. I love who we are, but some of our stuff needs an update. Like that whole rivalry with the Cullens; I don't know what sparked it, but the feud was just stupid. I'm sorry if it hurts you to hear about them."

Bella shook her head, her breathing shallow. She wouldn't let it hurt her until later, hopefully she wouldn't wake Charlie with screaming again.

"Anyway, Dad really believes in the whole thing. It wouldn't be so bad, he's old, but Sam's gang encourages that backwards stuff." Jacob's voice went sour.

"Sam seems to really bother you. Is it just the brainwashing and the old stories?" Bella asked.

"He treats me differently than the others," Jacob confessed. Then he continued, "Billy gets special treatment because he is the last line of the original chieftains. But we don't have chiefs anymore and I like it that way. If we went back to that kind of stuff, suddenly I'd have to be in charge of how people live just because of my DNA. That doesn't make sense, and it isn't right, but Sam is trying to bring back some of the older traditions and I don't like the way he looks at me."

"You think he wants you out of the way?" Bella asked, enthralled. Jacob's life had drama, it was so much more interesting than her bleak zombie existence.

"It's all too stupid. I'm sorry, Bella, I shouldn't even talk about it."

"You mean you aren't supposed to talk about it?"

"No, it's not that. It's just… It feels like I give it truth by acknowledging it. Like when I told you the _cold ones_ story. It's an old scary tale used to frighten kids. It makes us look bad. There's a reason it's supposed to be a secret."

Bella was quiet. She wanted to tell Jacob that the story was true and that the cold ones were real. She thought he might be encouraged to have faith in his history again, rather than chalk it up to craziness and superstition. But there was no way she would tell him vampires exist. Even the scar on her arm didn't always convince her. Edward had done too good of a job removing himself, and it had unhinged Bella.

"What does Billy think of your riot conditioning?" She tried to put a smile in the question, to lighten Jacob's mood. He responded well to the smile, brightening.

"He used to be wary of it, said that we didn't need special training. But Sam was the one who started it and he's a tribe darling, so the adults let it pass. They don't really encourage it, but I can tell Dad is proud to see me running and growing. I like making him proud," Jacob smiled before a scowl returned to his face.

"I once told him that Sam was watching me when I'd leave school." Bella was surprised that Jacob pulled the conversation back to Sam. It spoke simultaneously to his fear of the older boy and his trust in Bella.

"It scared me. I was legitimately afraid of Sam, and I still am. He looks at me with this confidence, like he knows he'll get me eventually. All the other guys that are in his gang, they swore they'd never join. Now look at them." He blew out his cheeks, the softness of his face belying a heavy, melodic voice.

"I thought it was creepy, that Sam was following me around and keeping tabs on me when I'm younger than most of the other disciples. But Dad just said, 'When you're older you will understand,' as if it were some coming-of-age thing. He still sees me as just a kid. You can't speak bad about Sam Uley; he's _untouchable_."

"You're not a kid," Bella assured him. The lie was so deep she didn't even see it. She knew he had been prematurely forced into adulthood by circumstance, yet she also knew he was an innocent. She needed him to stay polished so she wouldn't be tempted to get her sticky fingerprints all over him. He didn't need her mess. Instead, her clamoring dysfunction latched onto his fear of Sam. She heard his terror and felt protective, as well as superior. It encouraged her to distance him like Renee: loved but unequal. He had to be an innocent, scared boy, unsuspecting. It was the only way she could use him. She had to keep the upper hand.

Their plans unfolded into rhythms. The two of them thrived with structure and soon Bella was coming by daily, so that Jacob wouldn't get bored. They went for long runs on the weekends and he wove stories of his older sisters. She cooled her enmity toward Billy, kissing him on the forehead in greeting. She began quietly paying Jacob back in groceries.

And he accepted her gifts because he saw how they healed her. He knew how lonely she was off the reservation, and asked her to come by right after school every day. He told her stories to distract her from the struggles of their longer runs. He guessed that she only ate well when he cooked for her and he let her think she was helping around the kitchen, when in truth he was teaching her how to cook for herself. This was his third time caring for an older sister, and the key was to let her think she was in charge.

* * *

><p>It couldn't go unnoticed. Of course Quil and Embry teased Jacob about his crush on the hot mess known as Bella. But Jacob grinned and laughed it off. It was too preposterous to even acknowledge. Bella was his pupil, his sister, a broken heart who didn't need romance. In his head the two of them were comically mismatched.<p>

He caught Charlie's insinuations, imagining the Fathers clucking together like conspiring old hens. But Jacob did not love Bella, and Bella could love nothing except the space where a rib had been torn from her. He noticed she would clutch at her torso, holding herself together whenever mention of the Cullens came up. Jacob brought them up less and less. She would be his success story, a weight-loss miracle that would get him a rave recommendation and a free ride to a good college.

Eventually Quil and Embry backed off, because they had grown fond of Bella, too. In a playful sparring match Quil had accidentally clipped Bella's breast. He threw his hands in the air, eyes wide, and said,

"Oh my God! Bella! I am so sor—!" _Thud_. Bella took advantage of his unguarded moment and landed him on the ground with a simple take-down.

"Bam!" She yelled, with a cheer of triumph. She was one of the boys. They called her a "beast" and she took it like the compliment it was. But Quil and Embry got uneasy around the hard stuff; Jacob didn't pull his punches, and the first time he landed a hit on Bella, Quil nearly attacked him.

"We went through this," Jacob explained. He had given Bella a light pop on the nose. It hadn't even hurt, she had just been stunned. "No one saved us when we went through it," he continued, "She doesn't even go to our school, how can we protect her?"

"We don't hit girls," Embry replied, leaving with Quil. They came by less and less often after that.

"I'm really okay," Bella insisted.

"I know," Jacob said, though he still was saddened by his friends' departure. "Maybe they're right. You don't need to engage. I can just teach you escapes and—"

"No," she said firmly, "You were right. I have to protect myself now that… he's gone." Jacob motioned as if to stop her, she didn't have to talk about Edward when he knew how it upset her. But she waved him off.

"You know about the car accident, right?" Jacob nodded, everyone had heard about Edward Cullen saving the Sheriff's daughter in the school parking lot. "Well," Bella swallowed, "there was another time. Some guys jumped me in Silverdale and if Edw—" the name caught in her throat. She had an arm wrapped around her middle and Jacob told her she really didn't have to go on, but she insisted.

"There were a lot of them and they were drunk. They didn't just want my purse, and there was no one around until he showed up." She was looking in the distance, at nothing and Nothing, gripping her _mancanza_ in one hand. "Now there's no one to protect me. Don't pull your punches, Jacob."

* * *

><p>Jacob was beautiful like a piece of scenery—she admired it but felt no attraction. She envied his agility and strength, and she was in awe of his ability to correct her easily and quietly without making her feel embarrassed or ashamed of her mistakes. He was her friend. He was her wrestling partner and the spotter who lifted her for negative pull-ups. He let her kick him too hard and he always let her down gently whenever he flipped her.<p>

As he grew, he grew into himself. The confidence of his movements made him lovely, and his glossy black hair and clear skin added to this. Perhaps it had been his boyishness, or the fact that Bella's perception of beauty had been hijacked by the Cullens, but she didn't know he was handsome. He had dimples on his cheeks and a prominent adam's apple. His eyebrows were thin and his eyes deepset, so that she she felt she had to look closer to catch his eye. He wasn't stunning, wasn't dazzling, wasn't special, but he was friendly and strong and young, and this made him beautiful.

Sometimes she preferred the intensity he emitted while concentrating on his work. He was a bright sun, shining and happy when Bella was around, but she could tell that he withdrew into himself around Billy. Unlike everyone else, he wasn't afraid of her sadness, didn't ask her to look happier or buck up. Her voice would catch, her hand would shake, and he would just nod and let her calm herself down. Or he would suggest boxing, running, weight training.

When she did riot-conditioning with Jacob her friend disappeared. He became an incompetent attacker, and she had to be alert. Mostly, Jacob worked drills with Bella, getting her muscles used to the feeling of the fight and building response mechanisms. But sometimes he surprised her and made her fight back, kept her on edge and wary. After one round of sparring, Jacob said,

"Okay, let's go through some basic chokes and then we can run back."

Bella hadn't told Jacob that the chokes made her nervous or frightened. She had been choked before, by a sadistic vampire who left a scar on her arm and had flung her twenty feet by the neck. She had told him about Silverdale, but she couldn't tell him about that.

"Okay," she said, swallowing any hesitation, "show me." She put one hand on Jacob's huge throat, and he talked her through the procedure of escaping. He wove his arms through hers, building a lever that would pry her arms apart. He would explain, reverse and explain again. Finally it was her turn.

"Ready?" he asked her. Bella was not ready but she nodded anyway. Jacob's touch was light, the cling of a turtleneck sweater. But Bella felt tears spring to her eyes. She remembered James, she remembered being useless, helpless, pitiful. Even though Jacob wasn't using any pressure, Bella's breathing stopped.

"Go ahead, Bella," Jacob guided her gently. He could see that she wasn't taking the exercise well. "I'm not going to let go," he said, "you have to do this. You can do it."

Emotions that she didn't want anyone seeing flashed across her eyes. Bella struggled to keep composed, but as her throat sobbed against Jacob's palm she felt more and more out of control.

"Do it, Bella. You can escape. No one is coming to save you. You have to save yourself."

Bella positioned her arms into a lever around Jacob's muscled forearm, struggling to remember what she had to do. With a deft movement, she kicked her foot into his shin, simultaneously leveraging her arms and twisting her torso to escape his grasp. Then she bolted. Bella stood nearly ten feet away from Jacob, panting and wiping her face. Jacob didn't make any motion to approach her.

"You did it," he said. Bella sat down heavily on the ground and lay back, trying to control her breathing and the fear that had poisoned her blood. Jacob sat where he was, keeping his distance.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

Bella nodded. She knew that it was better for her to freak out here, with Jacob, than anywhere else. If someone in school or a stranger ever grabbed her by the throat, she would have collapsed in fear. But now she was gaining herself back.

"Again," she croaked.

* * *

><p>The Chevy pick-up always gave her away. Unlike Jacob, who was sneaky on his feet, Bella and her truck blundered loudly through the forest. She hoped that when the Volkswagen Rabbit was ready she would be able to identify its sound the same way that Jacob recognized her truck. It was like a secret handshake. And it meant that unless he was dead asleep, Jacob was always waiting for Bella when she finally finished the climb up their dirt driveway. It was nice seeing him smiling, already expecting her, already set with a game plan for the day.<p>

He had failed to meet her only twice before. On the first occasion, he had been sleeping the hot and furious sleep of a growing boy. Bella couldn't imagine he had that much more to grow. She had peeked through his bedroom window—everything was eye level at the Black residence—and seen the sprawling tangle of limbs and long hair wrapped in various quilts. She had withdrawn quickly, her smile disappearing with the memory of Edward watching her sleep. It was an intimacy she didn't dare cross; not with Jacob.

The second time that he hadn't anticipated her arrival, Bella passed his bedroom window, casually glancing through on her way to the front door. But he wasn't sleeping this time. This time, Jacob had heavy headphones over his long black hair and he was jumping around his minuscule bedroom making wild faces. He was pretending to be a rock star. Bella was again ashamed to have caught him unawares, but gladdened to see that he could still be a young kid on his own. She knocked on the front door and Billy let her in, smiling. She stood awkwardly in the kitchen with a clear view of Jacob's bedroom at the end of the three-foot hallway, the door open. He stopped mid-jump, eyes wide.

Sometimes Charlie came over for dinner at the Black's, bringing beer and cokes. Eventually Bella's refusal to drink soda sank in, and he brought a faucet filter as a very-belated Christmas gift to the Blacks.

"Bella's probably drinking up all your water, it's the least I can do," He joked with Billy.

"We've got plenty of water for Bella, but that Jacob eats all Bella's groceries."

"It's my payment to him," Bella insisted, though Jacob looked embarrassed to be the subject of conversation. Everyone gravitated towards the television, loaded paper plates on their laps. As soon as Bella finished her knee started jiggling. She couldn't pay attention. Jacob caught on quickly.

"Want to go check your baseline?" He suggested.

Bella's knee stopped.

"Really? It's only been a month."

"You've made progress. It'll encourage you. Do you guys mind if we step out for a bit?"

Charlie tried to dart a look at Bella, something implying "no funny business" but his heart wasn't really in it. Bella could imagine Charlie and Billy settling in together, the odd couple. They gossiped like old women already, and she was sure they were planning how to get Bella and Jacob together. It didn't bother her. In her head she simply shrugged saying, _I'll never love again._

* * *

><p>"I want to hate him, Carlisle."<p>

"Jacob the Supplanter? The one who would be Israel?" Carlisle watched the sunlight spin his Crookes radiometer. Centuries ago it had helped him determine whether it was safe to go out in the day time.

"He isn't a bible character," Edward muttered weakly. It had been a poor joke.

"I understand, Edward," his father replied, "you want to hate the man who is holding her."

"No!" Edward said, standing. He already _did_ hate Jacob for that, but he considered it a weakness of his own rather than Jacob's fault. "I want to hate him for his _blindness_! He does not see her. He fails to appreciate her. He's not _enough_." _He will bind her to a life ruled by the chaotic sea, or he will plunge her into the mysterious void that Alice had seen._ But Edward did not mention those things, and Carlisle could not read minds.

"This has gone on too long," Carlisle sighed, "go back to her. You are both miserable."

"I cannot," Edward said with finality, returning to his chair. "Alice's vision is finally gone." The image of Bella as a vampire. Tall, lithe, red-eyed and wild.

No, he could not wish that change upon her. Even when she had begged for eternity with him, he could not entertain the idea. Someone must die for a vampire to exist and not just their previous incarnation as a human. Everyone in the family had blood on their hands. A handful of rapists for Rosalie. Errant, sweet-smelling travelers for Emmett. Carlisle had slaughtered dozens by letting Edward loose on the world, and Jasper had taken armies. Bella could not escape unscathed, unmarred by murder.

Even if it were but one, only one condemned soul for the price of eternity, for the promise of Bella… even one was too much. He tried to convince himself that she would be happy, that Jacob would one day be enough for her.


	6. Motorcycle Mayhem

Five days a week she was Renee caught in a mistaken marriage, trapped in Nowheresville. The cry of the alarm stole her from insufficient sleep, and she rose reluctant with a sour mouth. She was perpetually tired, plagued by her colicky memories. Then she fell into the banal and useless routine of the day: dress, eat, drive. Sit, stand, write, stand, sit. It was a sad, grey blur and the classes were only distinguishable by the colors of the walls.

Her loveless marriage with school involved the humiliating and naked shame of gym, the forced enthusiasm for art, and the rote counseling sessions on political science. She knew that somewhere, beyond the constant rain, the half-hearted assignments and the endured exertions of volleyball, somewhere was Jacob: her Phoenix. Renee only had to live that life once, taking her daughter and GTFO-ing. The daughter, now grown, was caught in a Sisyphean snare: Phoenix could never hold her and every evening she slid back down the hill into the dark valley of Forks.

One day, she was paused at her locker, looking at a discarded half-eaten doughnut sitting on top of a nearby trash can. It wasn't touching anything but paper, and it still looked fresh.

"You freak Jessica out. She says you're super dark and creepy. Sounds awesome." The voice made her jump. It was Mike.

"What?"

"You going to eat with us at lunch today?"

"No. I changed my mind." Bella closed her locker and started to walk away.

Mike didn't like this. Bella was supposed to be submissive and weak, he didn't like it when she stood up to him.

"Leave me alone, Mike," Bella said softly, dangerously. Hysterical hope welled up as she remembered that she had trained for this. _Oh please let him try to hit me_, she begged, wanting a riot.

He left her with some choice curses and a grotesque leer. A wormy voice asked why Edward hadn't butt in. Where was he?

The memories surfaced, cruel and half-shrouded: Edward running his hand along the curve of her ribs. Edward asking her to tell him about the divorce, stroking her hair as she recalled shuttling between parents during the summer. Edward reminding her that she was beautiful, strong, more than the gossip.

Bella went into gym class with unusual vigor. She hoped they were playing dodgeball so she could hit someone. Instead, they were doing various military drills because the gym teacher was a poorly disguised sadist. They did something called "suicides" and as Bella sprinted she felt her body immolate, starting with her lung and then spreading to her thighs. She exhausted herself with a clear and murderous drive. As the girls retired to the locker room to change, the coach said loudly, "Bella Swan!" All the girls turned. "Good job today."

"Hey slut," the girl with a perfect stomach and french-tipped nails called in the locker room, "You're whoring around with the gym teacher now? You blow him like Mike?" Bella looked up and down the girl's 120lb frame, imagining the sort of pain 200lbs of anger-fueled misery could inflict on that perfect body. But Jacob had told her to never threaten anyone. Not ever.

"Of course," Bella responded evenly, pulling on a shirt, "that's the respected currency, isn't it?" She fixed even eyes on the skinny girl. It would be unfair for Bella to fight something so small, but she couldn't help imagining it anyway.

The nasty girl laughed with a cadence of sugar and cyanide. Rosalie would have liked her. Bella wished the girl would put on a shirt and stop showing off her push-up bra and the little butterfly on her hipbone. Bella was leaving, escaping this horror show.

"Wasn't good enough to keep the Cullens around," the girl remarked.

She was at the abandoned house before she knew what she was doing. She wanted him desperately, she felt weak and ridiculous and useless without him. And she hated herself for that. She reflexively brushed her hair back and realized she had been crying. The wood and glass house rose out of the trees as she made the last turn on the three-mile driveway.

"He's just a boy," she told herself. But the lie was too superficial. He had looked at her, carefully, and loved it. He had cultivated her, asked her questions, helped her unfurl her pretty little petals. Then, at the last minute, he had changed his mind and the scrutiny had broken Bella. It had confirmed all of her doubts and insecurities. Of course he would leave her. An unconscious arm wrapped around her torso, feeling the voided belly, the sagging skin. She had dropped pounds by being with Jacob, but she didn't want to just lose a little weight. She wanted to disappear.

The forest had been working hard to overtake the Cullen property again and it reminded her painfully of that night. This effing forest, eating up her beloved, swallowing him whole and leaving her behind. The forest had not protected her from Sam, had not let her die a quiet, pretty death. It rejected her but drank in the Cullens without mercy. The once-beautiful house was now awash in a still tide of ferns. It was dark and abandoned, and in the smeared reflection of the glass window Bella understood that she looked this way, too. The house was cold without the vampires inside it, an unwanted and lifeless structure, just like her. Sometimes she let Jacob in, but he couldn't fill all the rooms and he always had to leave.

The voice never came. She touched the windows, but still, no voices. She felt ignorant and unskilled, like an actor unable to mimic an accent. She couldn't remember his cadence, the warmth which contrasted his icy exterior. He was abstract to her, and her raging, carnal impulses wanted him tangible and hard. She wanted to crack her bones against his skin and press her mouth to his impermeable lips. She stepped back from the house, her reflection slipping away. She wanted Edward back. She got into her car and called the Black's house, hoping Jacob was home.

"_Hach chi'i_?" The voice was Billy's. Of course.

"Hi, Billy. Is Jacob home?"

"He's at school, Bella. Aren't you? Is something wrong?"

There was a calamitous kerfuffle on the other end and the phone sounded like it was being handed off. Then it was Jacob's voice breathless,

"Hello? Bella?"

"Hi, Jake," She gave a miserable laugh.

"I was in the garage, Dad didn't know. What's going on?" He sounded worried. She rarely called him.

"I've had a really, really bad day."

"Want me to get the bag ready?" He meant a punching bag kept at Quil's house. That sounded like a good start.

"Yeah, but do you think we can also do the bikes?" She wanted to break the butterfly girl's face before she heard Edward.

"Uh, sure. They aren't pretty yet—"

"I don't need pretty," she said before hanging up. She found Jacob in the shed, tinkering with some last parts. He stood up when he saw her, trying to gauge her mood. She didn't look like a hug would help.

"Let me wrap your hands," he said, motioning for her to follow him. He lead her outside and behind the shed, away from Billy's prying eyes. There was a heavy punching bag laying on the grass next to a shoe box, from which Jacob removed a set of black hand wraps.

He instructed her to hold out her hands. He didn't ask her any questions, he just told her to try not to punch since she would break her hand. He showed her how to do a palm strike, use her elbows, and encouraged her to slam the bag against the ground like it was someone's head. She was trembling as he wrapped her hands and wrists, but when he was done she didn't know where to begin.

"Get on top like it's someone you've pinned," he instructed, "you can't let him get up again, okay? When I say go, keep him down. Ready?" she straddled the bag, resting on her knees and feeling her breathing rattle her wet chest.

"Go!"

Jacob quickly left her alone, sitting against the other side of the shed to keep an eye out for his curious father. He could hear the grunts and cries of frustration, the smack of the heavy sand bag against the hard frosted ground, and the thud of her impotent body against the unrelenting material. He thought about his mother and sisters, thought about the night Billy came home and said he was going to lose his legs. He didn't know what that rich son-of-a-bitch had done to Bella, but he felt a distant violence swell against the pompous ass. He remembered who Bella had been in their few meetings before _the event_. He let her fight through her fury.

After awhile he didn't hear anything at all. He waited but when she stayed quiet he checked in on her. In his head he remembered the blushing girl at prom who straightened up and told Billy to piss off when he got in her business. He remembered her wide, grateful eyes when he confessed that he had been the one to rebuild her truck's engine. When he came around the corner to meet the current Bella she was panting, her back resting against the side of the shed and her legs flung in front of her. Jake crouched in front of her.

He began to unwrap her wrists, being careful and slow to unfurl the fabric strips. She was bleeding from a torn nail, she had contusions on her knuckles and had lost skin. After he unwrapped her he tenderly checked her elbows.

"C'mon," he said, "let's get you some ice."

"I'm not going near Billy today," she said in a voice he didn't recognize. He only paused a moment before going inside to get the ice for her. When he came back he wrapped two gel packs around her elbows and held a bowl for her knuckles.

"You know, you've changed a lot from the girl on the beach who wouldn't drink with the others."

"So have you. And I still don't drink," her voice was blank. She felt empty and sad. She had pretended that she'd murdered that girl, but it hadn't brought Edward back. She still wanted Edward.

"What happened today?" He asked. She was exhausted, leaning her head back with her eyes closed.

"I'm a fat slut," she sighed, "and a poor one at that." When Jacob didn't say anything she opened her eyes. He was holding back anger.

"You've got to get out of there, Bella," he said. "You've got to report those people." She nodded noncommittally. He held an ice cube to her torn nail.

"You're not fat," he reminded her. "You know that, don't you? You are a complex recipe of tissues. If anything, you're water." Bella didn't meet his eyes, didn't crack a smile. Jacob took a different tack.

"Bella you are beautiful and strong and intelligent. You have impressed me and the other guys with your dedication to training, and you've even picked up basic bike maintenance. You—"

"The bikes," Bella interrupted. "I want to ride today."

"Bella, your hands—"

"They're fine, it's just bruises. They're just motorcycles, Jake. C'mon, don't you want to enjoy our hard work?" She had gotten the bikes for Edward. They would work. They had to work.

"It's going to get dark soon," he warned. He didn't like her state of mind. Bella pulled her hands back from the bowl of ice water and took the ice packs off her elbows, standing up.

"Then we have to go now," she said. Jacob was still unsure but then she flashed him a full smile, one which was mischievous and playful, "C'mon, Jake. Just a test-run."

He let a smile melt his own features and agreed. Sometimes he worried too much. Bella was okay, she just had a tough day. She helped him load the bikes into her truck bed, and Jacob told himself that she was genuinely happy because she was smiling.

The drive carried on in an amenable silence until Bella rounded a turn and saw the gorgeous Pacific ocean. She slowed, admiring the vast expanse of water and the sharp cliffs jutting out of their depths. Then she noticed figures moving at the edge of one of the cliffs—suddenly a body was tumbling into the water. Bella slammed on the brakes and pulled the truck over, belatedly checking to see if there were any other cars behind her. She jumped out of the car to see if the body resurfaced in the waves.

"Jake! Call 9-11! Some guy just jumped off a cliff!" But Jacob was laughing and slowly unbuckling his seat belt.

"Oh my god!" She screamed, "There goes another!"

"They're cliff-diving, Bella," he laughed. "Most of us jump further down. They'll be okay, they're already brain damaged, the idiots."

"_You_ jump off those?" Her eyes widened in awe and Jacob rouged handsomely from the attention.

"Halfway down, not nearly as far. It's a great rush. But it is way too cold to be jumping now. I'm surprised they aren't freezing. Sam can get his disciples to do anything he wants."

"That's Sam and his gang?" she asked, peering into the distance. Her eyes were good, but she couldn't distinguish any of them. They were all half-naked, brown, short-haired men.

"Yeah. They're always showing off. And they act like they run the woods. They're so goody-two-shoes that they can get away with it. They do crazy stuff, stuff that could kill them. It's some sort of ritualistic conditioning, I think."

Jacob watched Bella pensively as she gazed at the cliffs. Her hair was tangled and blowing behind her, the curls describing arabesques in the wind. She caught him staring and he looked away adding,

"Embry was with them."

"Embry joined Sam's gang?" She had thought maybe beefcake-Quil would be the one to leave, but Embry was so shy and sweet. It didn't make sense.

Jacob nodded, all humor gone from his face, "That's the real reason he hasn't been around lately."

"I'm sorry, Jake." They got back into the truck, solemnity inviting itself in with them.

"I don't want to join his scary superhero gang," Jake said, the fear coming through his voice, "I don't want to dive off the cliffs or lose all my friends."

"You won't. I won't let you, I promise." She leaned across the seat and hugged Jacob, feeling like a good older-sister.

"Will you take me cliff-diving?" Bella's voice was too eager.

"Maybe when it is warmer," he evaded. She started the truck rolling again, a distant smile on her face.

"I want to jump off the big one," She said, staring out at the horizon.

Jacob looked at her for a long while. He wanted to get the words right, not sound patronizing.

"Bella," he said, "you know that these motorcycles aren't dangerous. It's the people who ride them that are dangerous. But you won't be reckless, right?"

She sighed.

"I'm not dangerous, Jake. I'm just numb. I need a rush to feel alive again."

_He did that to you?_ Jacob thought to himself. A new, uneasy silence seeped into the truck, tightening Bella's lungs. Finally Jacob said,

"I'm sorry. That was the turn." Bella made a belabored u-turn, and they ended up on a stretch of road where the packed sand, unlike slippery mud, would grip the tires better. The western edge of the woods allowed them to get the last shreds of daylight.

They'd gone over the mechanics of the bike a million times, but today Jake told her not to use the back brake, only the hand brake.

"Why?"

"You need to get used to the balance first," he warned, "otherwise you'll probably crash." He set her up on the black bike, which was clunky and desperately needed a paint job but ran smoothly. He'd taken a shine to the red Sprint, and although Bella donated both bikes to Jacob he still acted like the black one belonged to her. She was having trouble keeping the bike upright and Jacob assured her that was normal. Thankfully her legs were long enough that she had a good stance on the ground, but the weight of the bike unbalanced her.

"It's easier when they are moving. Now remember, the clutch is like a live grenade—hold the pin down so you don't explode."

"I know, I know. Let's get moving!" Bella said impatiently. She had heard this grenade stuff before. Jacob calmed her down, his hand on the small of her back to steady her. He put his other hand on hers, talking her through the clutch and the brakes. She was bored by his careful instructions but endured them. She felt like Edward was getting away.

"Help me kick-start," she said, "I can't get my balance right yet."

"Okay, but just be easy on the clutch and only go a few hundred feet. We'll make baby steps. We've got time."

Bella didn't want baby steps, and she didn't have time. Edward had said that they would have time, right before she found herself hunted down by James. There was no future anymore for Bella, only the present. As soon a Jacob stood back and kicked the start, she felt the bike tilt over. He just managed to catch her and stand her upright.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" He asked, worried.

"Of course I am, stop worrying and start me." Bella's voice was harsher than she intended, but Jacob complied. The engine caught and she eased the clutch to get the bike moving. It lurched forward, as eager as her. Wind whipped at Bella's face and she felt her hair fly back behind her. She wanted to go faster.

"Slow down and get off the bike, Bella," Edward's voice warned. It wasn't a memory and it wasn't wishful thinking. That _was_ his voice, long-forgotten but unmistakable. She couldn't believe how severely her memory had deteriorated his peculiar timbre. It was soothing, even when he was rebuking her. She could stand to be insane if she could live inside his reality.

"You're doing this just to upset me," Edward's voice continued. _Well it's working. And it means I can pretend that you still care about me._ She started to speed up more but the voice was loud,

"Look where you're going!" He warned, and for that second he was so real—so immediately present. She had so many questions to ask him, her solar plexus strained from the building pressure. But then she saw that a sharp turn was coming. She didn't know how to turn. She clamped down on the clutch again, holding down the pin on the grenade. But the bike wasn't slowing.

Instinctively, she used the foot brake and turned the handle bars. The combination of movements completely upset her momentum and the bike fell, sliding on top of her. She slid off the road and through moss and ferns, smelling the bright green of the crushed chlorophyll. Edward's voice disappeared entirely, and there was an abrupt clunk when she came to a stop. She tried to get up but couldn't. She heard Jacob's voice, but not his feet. Even when he was nearly beside her his footsteps were muffled.

"Bella! Bella!" He yelled her name as if she had miraculously disappeared from sight. She tried not to laugh at his panic. He lifted the bike off her and suddenly she could move again. Not only could she move, she felt like she could fly.

"Did you see that?" She laughed, "I was awesome!"

"Bella, we have to get you to a hospital," Jacob's face was contorted in fear, but she finally noticed that he was honest-to-God handsome. He was a looker. A crazy voice in her head made a wolf-whistle and she laughed aloud. How had she missed this? Her little Jacob was growing up.

"What? No! I feel great. Look," she wiggled her fingers and arms, giggling. Jacob put a hand on her shoulder to stop her.

"You have a cut to the head and you're bleeding a lot," he said, the seriousness of his voice catching. Bella touched the side of her face and her fingertips came back bloody. The moss must have covered the smell of it. She felt the cruel and familiar nausea. Yuck, yuck, yuck.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," She said automatically cringing from the offensive fluid.

"Don't apologize for bleeding, apologize for that steering. I told you not to use the rear brake." Jacob was pulling out his pockets. Not finding what he was looking for he made an aggravated sound and pulled off his shirt, wadding it into a ball and pressing it to Bella's head.

"Oh, Jake! You're shirt!" _Your_ _abs! What?_

"It already had blood on it, no thanks to you. C'mon, you're going to need stitches."

"No," Bella said forcefully, "Charlie will find out! He'll know about the bikes!" She tried not to look at his chest. She had never seen Jacob shirtless, but the only thing that really surprised her was that he was completely hairless. She'd read somewhere that Native Americans had less body hair than Europeans, so she should have expected it. But Harry Clearwater was considered full-blooded and he had a walrus mustache. Even Edward had had chest hair—maybe Jacob really was just a boy. She was too dizzy to stop staring, it was like seeing an anatomy structure. She could see all his muscles and sinews moving.

"I'll tell him we fell in the woods and you hit your head on a rock while we were running. It explains the dirt, too. You've come home in grease plenty of times, he won't know about the bikes."

Bella was reassured by Jacob's story. She'd seen him lie before, he wouldn't get her in trouble. She felt goofy, endeared by his willingness to lie for her and to bloody his shirt. She accepted his help as he stood her up. He was such a gentleman, she thought to herself, she wanted to curtsy in appreciation.

"Wait here," he said, and she watched him run back to get the truck. He threw the other bike into the bed and Bella caught herself admiring his running form and strength. She had never seen him run at full speed, and his hair had come down when he pulled off his shirt. She tried to imitate the wolf-whistle in her head, but it just came out as a weird whooshing sound. He raced the truck back to Bella, and she felt a tinge of pride to see how much ground she had covered in her dangerous sprint.

"I want a back like that," she said in a girlish voice, "can you get my back to look like yours?"

Jacob's movements were frantic as he hauled her black bike onto the truck bed.

"Only if you promise never to drive like that again," he said angrily. Bella let out a giggle that was bright and flirtatious. She adjusted the wad of shirt against her head and widened her eyes sheepishly when Jacob shot her a fierce look. He tightly wrapped the tarps over the bikes, his hair swinging over his shoulders and his hands shaking. He was hurried, insisting on helping Bella as if she were a pregnant woman in labor. Finally, with unhelpful wisecracking on Bella's part, they got her into the truck, all but lifting her into the seat—she was afraid he was going to try and clip her seat belt for her, too.

They would have to drive back to the reservation first to drop off the bikes. Bella wouldn't let him drag her to the hospital with the evidence in her truck bed. Jacob's face was stern with worry, and he had blood on his hands with a red smear on his face where he must have wiped away sweat. Bella had never seen him worried, or shirtless, or anything but calm, boyish Jacob.

"You're gorgeous," she said unthinkingly.

Jacob stared at her, turning his eyes back to the road.

"Bella, you must have hit your head pretty hard."

"It's called a compliment, you old geezer, take it." But Bella knew she had invited a new element into their relationship. She wished she could take it back, but her head was starting to hurt now and she was dizzy.

"Okay, thanks, I guess." Jacob looked uncomfortable.

"Really, Jake, I'm okay. I've gotten into plenty of scrapes before. You forget that I'm usually clumsy. Charlie's seen me in and out of hospitals my whole life." She waved her hand dramatically, and noticed her control wasn't as good as it should have been. She felt drunk, and her stomach tensed with memories of _brut champagne_.

"You haven't been clumsy since you've been running," Jacob noted, "I was more worried about your bike, though, Bella."

"Oh!" She said, sitting straighter, "do you think it's hurt bad?"

"No, not that," his voice was low and reminded her of Billy, "Bella I don't want you riding anymore."

"C'mon, Jake, let's talk about this later. You're just freaked out a little."

"You scared the life out of me," he said, "I saw you hit your head and _watched the bike drag you_." She could hear his voice catch and it was oddly flattering. "I thought you might not wake up."

"I'm okay, Jacob," she said peevishly.

"Yeah, well what if you weren't? What if all this time I'd just been helping you build a death machine? Do you know what that would do to me?" He was angry. Bella hadn't thought of it that way. She'd wanted to scare herself into bringing Edward back, but she had forgotten about Jacob. He was just part of the plan, not an anticipated casualty.

"I'm sorry," She whispered. "I didn't mean to hurt you." Then she remembered it was a car accident which had killed his mother, and she felt intense and vilifying shame. She had laughed at his fear, made fun of his panic, and forgotten the deepest, darkest secret that Jacob harbored.

"Well you did hurt me. And you hurt yourself," he nodded to her head. "How's the bleeding, by the way?"

Bella pulled the shirt away from her head and looked in the mirror. A trickle of blood escaped.

"Head wounds bleed a lot, but it should be okay," she said softly, unsure if she could ever make up for what she had done to him. Jacob cursed.

"You're going to need stitches, Bella. To your _head_."

"Listen, it was a mistake!" tears came to her eyes, knowing that she was lying to her best friend, angry that she had let herself forget about his mother, "I'll be more careful, okay?"

"Promise me," Jacob said.

She hesitated. "I promise to drive safely," she whispered.

Jacob changed when they got to the reservation, not wanting to show up shirtless at the hospital. In the car Bella wanted to lighten his mood, but her voice was interrupted by a yawn.

"So what, are you trying out for a swim meet now?" She stretched luxuriously, feeling sleepy.

Jacob glanced at her before gripping the steering wheel harder, revving the ancient engine higher and saying, "Oh, God, Bella don't fall asleep on me, okay?"

She laughed, "It's not like I have a concussion," and as the words left her mouth she realized that indeed, she did most likely have a concussion. It was both familiar and irking: she could imagine Edward shaking his head and sighing.

"I meant, do you shave your chest or something?" This wasn't going as she had planned, but it got Jacob talking about something besides the gash in her head.

"It's just how I am, Bella," he said, "I'm still a man."

She had wounded him again. She decided to just shut up until she had some stitches in her head and maybe some pain killers.

As they left the hospital together she realized she was holding his hand. He felt like a child, scared and lost. Now that his growth spurt and shiny muscles were covered in drab plaid again, he was just little Jacob, and she had petrified him. She pulled him into a hug, whispering apologies into his shirt.

"I'm really sorry, Jake. I didn't ever want to scare you like that."

He stroked her messy hair, avoiding the side with the bandage, and she felt the vibration of his chest when he accepted her apology. In the car she noticed the route he was taking and said,

"Woah, woah, woah! This isn't the way to the reservation!"

"No, it's not," he agreed, "we're taking you home until Charlie shows up. I have to keep you awake until then." _Ugh_, Bella thought. Maybe the sharpness of the stitches or the lost look on Jacob's face snapped Bella out of her loopiness, but she was able to regain a modicum of responsibility. Usually it irritated her that she had to be the strong one whenever she was hurt, had to always console others that it wasn't as bad as it looked. But she wasn't short with Jacob.

"I didn't think about how that looked to you," she said softly, "I forgot about…."

She expected something to change about Jacob, some sort of reaction, but he was completely still. Then he said, "We all have scars, Bella. I respect yours."

It was true. When they had been just starting their sparring in the woods he told her about wrist-escapes, that is, getting away from someone who is holding your wrist. Bella had cut off the feet of a pair of socks and added holes for her thumbs, sheathing her wrists in the warm wool and protecting her vampire scar from prying eyes. No one had really noticed the accessory: Forks was cold and she had long arms that over-shot her sleeves. But Jacob had initially suggested she remove them for the drill. When he saw her reluctance he had changed his mind with a smile, saying that she would probably be wearing those in a real life situation anyway. He had respected her scars.

Jacob was lost in his own thought, and Bella accepted his silence. Then he spoke up for himself,

"When Dad's diabetes got really bad, when they had to take his legs—"

"Jake," Bella interrupted, "You don't have to tell me."

"I want to," he said, "You should know. Well, I watched him dying real slowly, right in front of me. And I said, 'Dad, you aren't going to make me an orphan this young.' Because he would have." Jacob swallowed, "None of us were okay after Mom was gone, and Dad really would have just let himself die. I know he loves me, and I know he is grateful that I got him off the liquor and the crap. He likes to show off how many push-ups he can do at meetings now…" Jacob smiled, but the corners turned downward.

"Bella," he said, not meeting her eye, "it's not always like this. You just have to trust the process."

Bella couldn't answer him. When they arrived at her house he rummaged through her pantry until he found dried lentils, and he made her soup from scratch, baking bread in the cast iron skillet. She didn't want to accept these gifts, didn't want to acknowledge what he had seen. He knew that part of her had engineered that accident, consciously or not. And he still loved her. _I do not deserve this_, she thought, waiting for Charlie to come home and drive Jake back to the reservation.


	7. To Lemon or not to Lemon

_**Author's Note:** Thank you all for your PMs and reviews! I am loving writing this and I hope you enjoy reading it, too! Ready for some of the libidinous stresses of youth?_

Her father was understandably upset when he got the news. Jacob remained stoic in the car ride with Charlie, so he just stewed and built pressure until he got home. He threw open the door and bellowed up the stairs,

"No more running!"

He was startled by his daughter, who had been waiting for him in the kitchen. She rose, careful and blazing.

"You know I need running," she said venomously, "I'm not giving it up." There was a look in her eye which reminded Charlie that she was far from sane. Besides the stitches she had blood all over her shirt and looked like she'd been in on the winning end of a fist fight. It was his own cowardice that stopped him from asking just how she had banged her knuckles up running. He just didn't want to know at this point.

"Well," he tried to recover his parental authority, "does it have to be _in the woods_?"

"Yes. It was my shoes, Dad. They aren't for trail running."

"Then buy new shoes!" Charlie yelled. For men like Charlie anger came sooner than vulnerability. "I'll pay for them if I have to," he added. It was an empty phrase, Bella never let other people buy her things.

"Oh, well in that case, thank you, Dad." She turned on her heel and took the stairs two at a time.

His daughter was changing. He liked Jacob and Billy seemed to approve of the match as well, but Bella still wasn't better. Still, even Charlie could see that under Bella's old clothes her shape was changing and some color had returned to her cheeks. A part of him thought that maybe if she got her body healthy then her heart would follow. When Bella was getting ready for work after the accident, Charlie handed her his credit card.

"For the new shoes," he said, "Make sure you put that employee discount to good use."

Bella took the card, not a trace of rouge along her pale cheeks. She wouldn't blush. Now that her paycheck went to bike parts and groceries she needed the money and couldn't afford to refuse.

"Thanks, Dad."

"And get yourself some clothes that fit, if they're on sale," he added.

"I don't need new clothes, Dad."

"Yes you do, Bella. You're the only person around here who doesn't see the changes you've been making. Just one outfit. For me."

Bella left without making any promises. It was a slow day at work and she was on shift with Mike. She decided to take advantage of the lull to try on clothes. It had been months since Bella had seen herself in a full-length mirror. The mirror in her bathroom was small and high up, but in the dressing room she saw a new person.

Her skin was saggy and a ghoulish white, but there were feminine curves to her ribs and hips. She found herself flexing her biceps. The push-ups were working. Her shoulders looked strong and broad, and she could see definition around her waist. When she inhaled she saw her ribs and strips of muscle along her torso. A BMI chart would call her unhealthy, a doctor would say she was overweight, and the kids at school didn't hesitate to call her fat. But she was still impressed by her body. It was overwhelming. She felt like she was carving away at stone, revealing something hidden. She came out of the dressing room in fitted running gear.

Mike could execute a perfect wolf-whistle. It got her thinking.

"I think I'm going to buy these," she said casually, heading toward the registers.

"You should. You've lost a lot of weight, it'll make the customers want to know your secret."

"Shut up, Mike." Bella rung herself up, scanning the tags on her body.

"Seriously," he said, leaning on the counter. There weren't any customers in the store. "Some guys like that Amazon thing." Yesterday had told Jacob that he was gorgeous. She had realized that he was honest-to-God good looking. He cared for her, he had touched her body when teaching her flips and submissions.

"Where'd you get the stitches?" Mike was apparently chatty today. As Bella had been climbing out of her depression her libido had returned, and she found herself saturated with images of pushing random boys against the lockers at school. When the gas station attendant leaned into her window to ask a question she got freakish urges to cup her hand behind his head and draw him closer. Now her grim fantasies were threatening Jacob, and she didn't want them to. Perhaps she could steer them elsewhere.

"I crashed my motorcycle," she said dryly. It had the right effect, Mike gave her a knowing smirk as though they were in on a secret together.

When her shift ended, she called up Jacob to make sure he was on the reservation.

"Are you up for a run?" She asked.

"Always!" She could hear his smile. She felt absurd relief—he really had forgiven her. She wanted to break in her new shoes and outfit. An awakened part of her also hoped she would hear some approval from him.

It unnerved Bella to admit that she found Jacob attractive, as though it were a negation of her love for Edward. She certainly didn't want to date him, and she was turned off by the fact that, despite his size, he was only sixteen. It felt _wrong_. As she pulled the truck into her usual space at the Black's house her stomach was afloat with butterflies. She vividly imagined catching and crushing the bugs between her fingers. She cursed the testosterone and Luteinizing hormones coursing through her blood: Biology and Sex Ed had taught her to blame her nervous fire on the chemicals.

"I got new shoes!" She yelled as she hopped down from the truck.

"Woah!" Jacob called, loping over with his easy stride, "Looks like you got new everything. They look fancy! Hey!" He exclaimed, sighting her shoes, "I've heard of those!" She had bought toe-shoes, the kind meant for barefoot trail running.

"I work at a sporting goods store, you know," she laughed, pleased by his attention. Yesterday was forgotten, as were the half-crushed butterflies. He was only dangerous in her imagination, the real Jake was her friend, nothing more.

"Well let's go ugly them up," he grinned affecting a backwoods drawl, "we don't need pretty around here." He didn't want her to over-exert the muscles needed for her new shoes, so they had a very short run as he watched her new form with the funky kicks.

He suggested they do some sparring instead. He had taught her how to throw a punch, and theoretically how to take one. He played soft with her, but occasionally reached his huge hands around to poke her wherever her guard was down. They kept in tight circles around each other, Bella would throw out a long arm for a jab and Jacob would easily catch it, swiping his paw towards her head in a slow motion. She would bob and weave, bringing tight punches to his gut as she ducked down. It was like hitting a wall, and he encouraged her to make full contact. Despite her new duds she was aware that her own stomach was more Santa Claus than Rambo.

They played around and wrestled, getting leaves and dirt on her clothes, adding bruises and scratches to her pale skin. They felt like lion cubs, enjoying each other and laughing when Bella successfully picked up and flipped Jacob. She felt like a million bucks, and he even got her to practice handstands. It was freeing to be upside down, but Jacob held her ankles, spotting her in case she lost her balance. All was forgiven, all was normal. He was brother bear.

They ran back to the house at a slow pace, laughing and young. Then Jacob yelled,

"Mutant bear! Mutant bear!" and Bella would have to sprint for her life until he yelled, "Safe!" She forced a laugh through her tired lungs, her face red and happy.

"Don't gas out yet," he warned, "that bear could catch up any minute." She had to sprint three more times, leaping over logs and making sharp turns around trees to avoid Jacob's growling bear noises. Billy watched from a window as they burst free of the trees, running and tumbling back towards the garage. He smiled in approval.

* * *

><p>It wasn't long before Bella needed to hear Edward again, but reckless driving was off-limits now. She remembered the meadow and enlisted Jacob's help in finding it again.<p>

"Orienteering? You're a regular girl scout," he laughed. Jacob was game, putting on a ratty old hat and wearing the compass as a necklace. He whistled as they wandered the forest, pointing out different trees that looked like faces. Nothing looked familiar to Bella, but it was a different season and the sky was ominously gray. Jake appeared confident in his directions, but when they finally reached the plateau it was a smaller clearing, the wrong shape and size to be the meadow.

"Hey, this is pretty nice!" He said, imagining sparring on the flat terrain.

"Well, mark it on the map. But it isn't what I was looking for."

Jake looked up at the sky.

"We don't have time to look any more today, bad rain is coming. C'mon, we'll jog back and try again tomorrow. Next time we'll do it as a run."

The next morning began perfectly with Jacob. The weather promised to be unseasonably warm and she was running at a good clip, her breathing perfectly controlled and her weight on the front of her feet, keeping her light and agile. The forest floor was becoming familiar to her, and she felt safe with Jacob beside her, giving steady feedback on her form and her pacing.

Then Jacob told her to slow down and brought her to a new part of the woods. For a moment she was afraid they had found it, that maybe Jacob had scouted it out ahead of time. He got obsessive with these kinds of things. Maybe he had already found the meadow that she had spent so many days in with Edward. Her breathing changed as her pulse raised. Jacob heard the difference and made his own conclusions.

"Here, slow to a walk. I want to show you something." Bella followed, her legs working like pistons and her seized throat unable to protest. She realized too late that she didn't want to see the meadow again, she didn't want to feel that pain in front of Jacob. She'd already shown him too much, let him too close. The light ahead of them made the leaves glow and she closed her eyes as she stepped forward.

"Open your eyes, Bella. Don't close them. Keep them open."

"I can't," she said, her voice trembling. Jacob took her hand. "Then I'll lead you. Follow my voice."

She took a careful, measured four steps and then stopped. She felt Jacob move to her side and heard him say,

"Look."

When she opened her eyes it was not the meadow. It wasn't a clearing or a path, it was sky. There was sky everywhere and Bella wasn't breathing. It took her a moment to set her periphery and see the rocks at her feet and the rippling cloudless sky ahead of her: it was the ocean. The wind chilled Bella's face, but that isn't what brought tears to her eyes. This was new, and it was Jacob. He was adding pieces to her, building up his fixer-upper.

She turned to thank him and realized he was closer than she had thought. She could feel his warmth radiating from him. He didn't want anything from her, he didn't pull away her heat like Edward did; he only gave endlessly. In the bite of the wind she found herself curling her body towards him, the sweat of her brow chilling her. But something else drew her to Jacob; it wasn't just the weather or his warmth. She wanted to be near him—no, she told herself, she wanted to be close to him. Very close.

"Thank you, Jacob," she said. He bent his head, shaking it slowly,

If this had been Edward she would have thought he'd be about to kiss her, he was so near. But Jacob didn't really like her that way… and then she realized that he did, the attraction was not one-sided. Her memories and emotions began to click into place, and the warm familiarity she shared with Jacob suddenly became something stronger and more magnetic. Hers weren't the only hormones that were raging; she wasn't the only one struggling. Was it just his physical comfort that she craved, the warmth he offered and the human touch that promised to wipe away memory of Edward's icy lips?

He was so close to her now and she knew it was happening. She had only moments to decide whether to welcome it or lock Jacob out forever. This was the crucial point at which their relationship would be determined and she didn't have time to think about it.

She pressed her cold fingers into his skin, drawing him against her by the back of his neck. She didn't want to think, she only needed to feel, and she felt very strongly about this moment. He was carnality and heat, passion and fire, and he promised to sear away her scar tissue. She welcomed him, feeling the heat of his mouth on hers.

He didn't hold back the way Edward did, he wasn't afraid of himself or Bella. There would be no stopping, no angst-ridden aborted kisses. She twisted one hand into his glossy black hair, indulging in the richness of its length. Her other hand clawed into his shoulder, and she felt his hands move to her hips, easily lifting her up, higher and higher to be as tall as him. Her legs locked around him and it felt right and easy. Even as she felt them lowering to the forest floor together it felt right, his mouth and teeth, his hands and body heat. There were leaves in her hair, twigs pressing into her back, and the full weight of Jacob on top of her.

She woke up sweating and disturbed, her heart racing. She was supposed to go on another hike with Jacob today and find the meadow. She calmed herself down and went to the phone, canceling the trip.

"I think I'll have to do this myself, Jake," she said.

"I can't let you do that, Bella, not with the bear threats."

The mega-bear of Forks had been gaining headlines and was popular in the sporting goods store, but Bella didn't believe any of it.

"You saw my sprints." She joked breathlessly.

"No, Bella. The LaPush woods are safe, but not over in Forks, that's just where all the sightings have been." Jacob managed to block a second pathway to Edward.

* * *

><p>Jacob saw nothing but admiration. He kept a wall between them, unable to recognize her as a sexual creature. But his "admiration" began when he noticed Bella wasn't breakable, or at least, she was strong and dedicated to the process. She didn't know it, but she had once caught him off-guard while sparring; she hadn't made contact, but the intelligence behind her attack further boosted her in his esteem. Soon he was watching her face, melting away the tired circles and the distant countenance to see the beautiful, vivacious woman beneath. He liked that her make-up was mechanic's grease and forest loam; he liked that she was completely relaxed around him.<p>

Jacob had fantasized about women before, but they had never resembled Bella. She wasn't his type, he thought stupidly. Jacob had no idea what he was thinking. He worked unconsciously, and his happy ignorance was a balm to Bella. But when she was away from his steadfast ignorance she felt the pressure build up. Jacob's naivety couldn't hold off Bella's machinations much longer. Moments started to appear, popping up like mushrooms after the rain.

In the woods she had gotten a debilitating cramp in her calf while running. She stumbled into a jerky limp, crying out in pain like she'd been shot. Jake had rested her ankle on his knee and placed a warm hand over the seizing muscle.

"I am mortified." She said dramatically, bracing herself as he worked on the hardened calf.

"Why? Because you ran too hard?"

"Because I haven't shaved all winter." It wasn't difficult to be hairier than sleek and slippery Jacob Black, but it was still an embarrassing stigma.

"Yeah, it is pretty gross." He smiled. She tried to pull her leg away and put on an injured face, but he apologized until she smiled again.

"Bella, I've seen worse than hairy legs." He said.

There was a quiet space of time between his unilateral concentration on her calf and the moment where he gingerly set her sore leg back down. There: when he rested a hand on the top of her foot, that hesitation—that was a missed window. She had thanked him and limped back to the house, making a lame excuse to go home earlier than usual.

Another time in the garage: Bella wasn't a good mechanic, and only Jacob's enthusiasm kept her interested in the complicated combustion of these machines, but she was a genuine helper. She anticipated his needs and watched with real interest as he played with the puzzle pieces of their bikes. With a wrench to her diminished gut, she realized they had been working in complete, satisfied silence for hours. They were a well-functioning unit, and suddenly the gerryrigged garage was too small. Her heartbeat caught in her throat and she struggled to swallow. She knew something Jacob didn't and this knowledge kept her rigid. She knew that the vague borders of her virginity would be utterly surrendered with a single kiss. Her thoughts were twinned and conflicted around Jacob: _Please (do not) kiss me_.

If he had looked at her at that moment and realized their faces were not that far apart, if he had only reached for her it would have been the breaking of a floodgate. Late at night, hating herself, Bella wondered about this passion and certainty. The stupor was receding, and it brought issues and quirks to the surface, vying for her attention. It took all her energy just to ignore the moaning absence in her side, the _mancanza_ that growled and clawed her core. Her brain worked methodically through the problem of Jacob.

_What is the best possible result_? She asked herself. The best outcome would be that everything stays the same except she could get drunk off Jacob's body, delight in a bubbly kiss with the champagne bottle. If everything else could stay the same—the running, the woods, the garage—but she could lose herself to pure inebriation, that would be perfect. He was a hot-blooded sixteen-year-old boy, and if he was half as tightly wound as Bella then… Well, then she would have to get birth control after all. She had researched pills back when she was the ovulating addition to the Cullen family, but a little web surfing had uncovered a reusable cup that would seal off any traces of blood.

Her short affair with Edward had made Bella embarrassingly aware of her sex drive. She pushed his borders, she craved more; with Jacob she would have no moral qualms. She wanted to use him up, forgoing any sense of self-preservation. Bella recognized the voice that thought hooking up with Jacob sounded awesome. It was also the one which had wanted to drive recklessly around a boy who had lost his mother to a car accident. If the best possible scenario was one that likened Jacob to a piece of meat or a shiny bottle of alcohol, it probably wasn't a good idea to give in to temptation. But that niggling voice kept pushing, kept wanting.

_What is the worst that could happen_? She turned onto her side in bed, away from the clock that reminded her she'd have to wake up in three hours. There was a fork in this road. One option was that Jacob could reject her, abandon her. Maybe he honestly _didn't_ want her, maybe he'd push her away and then there would just be choking awkwardness. Or maybe they would uncork the bottle and let it spill along the forest floor, drinking until they woke up with glass in their hands and a mouth full of bile. Could she take another man saying "No" to her? Could she go back to the emptiness, especially now that she was bitterly awake?

The other possibility knocked the wind out of Bella, and her brain resisted that route, bucking and crying against it. Consuming him might make the naive child think he was in love. She felt the first shudder of horror clench her stomach. He was a fresh, young boy and she was a mangled corpse. It would be like running a marathon on a snapped leg, the bone pushing itself through the skin with each foot fall. The _mancanza_ twisted inside her.

Something was gone. Whatever organ had existed to allow her to love, she had willingly sacrificed it to her soulless angel. She had clawed open her own flesh for him and let him drink. And now it was gone, she had lost that capacity entirely. It didn't matter how nice he was, Bella was too broken to love anyone again. Bone pushing through a wound. The void devouring her from the inside. As the sun rose, darkness closed in around Bella and she let out hoarse, soundless screams into her pillows.


	8. Valentine's Debacle

She showed up at LaPush, shutting off the erotic buzz in her body. She had a plan. It was ingenious and would kill two birds with one stone: bring Edward's voice back and turn her attention away from Jacob.

When she saw the teenager she immediately felt better, the borders were well-guarded today. He had a goofy grin on his face and when he saw her he ran towards the truck, diving into a quick roll and jumping up again into a run. Rolling around always made Bella cheer up, it made her feel silly, like a gymnastic ninja. The best part came at home, when she saw her shoulder blades in the bathroom mirror and the angel-wing bruises adorning them.

"We're going to get you centered: cartwheels, rolls, and hand stands!"

"You're insane," she laughed, giving him a playful shove. This was her kid brother, Jacob. He wasn't some sexy creature luring her to romantic destinations. He blushed too easily and got nervous around the girls at school. He was _sixteen_.

The headstand came last, and Bella was full of thrilling, pleasant nerves. She kicked up into a handstand with Jacob spotting her. He released her ankles.

"You've got this, Bella!" He cheered.

"Don't make me laugh!" she squealed, tucking her chin and ducking into a roll. The exercise had warmed her up and she was feeling much better. The dream was long gone, and Jacob was Jacob again, back to his role.

"Show me _your_ handstands," she begged. Jacob usually didn't like to show off for Bella, it made him self-conscious, but this time he complied. He made a perfect handstand and then slowly lowered his head to the ground and up again—like a push-up, except his legs were straight in the air.

Bella's admiration was vocalized in yips and giggles, but she immediately regretted encouraging this display of virility. Then she heard a second set of hands applauding from further away. It was Billy, he had opened the window and was cheering for Jacob, who looked all the more embarrassed, again reduced to a boy.

"C'mon inside, you kids. I've got some hot tea ready." Billy had started to grow on Bella now that he didn't give her meaningful looks. In his mind, the Quileutes had won the war and he was satisfied with the outcome.

"When are you going to teach me how to do that standing push-up thing?" Bella asked jokingly.

"We can do that today, if you like," Jacob smiled. Bella gave him a light punch in the side but he just laughed, "I'm serious!" He said, "Try it now."

"Now?" She laughed, but when Jacob had an idea in his head he was unshakable. She kicked into another handstand, a feat in itself, but when Jacob had her ankles she felt some of the weight in her arms lighten. He was lifting her slightly.

"Now lower yourself!" He said, holding her legs and helping her down and up again. She rolled out of the handstand and stared at Jacob with unabashed awe.

"You made me a ninja!" She cried gleefully. Her own surprise with her ability overrode the chagrin she had felt as he'd easily managed her weight.

Billy was waiting with tea on the linoleum table. Despite the rush of energy, Bella's hands were cold and she was eager to wrap her fingers around the mug. The three of them started chatting in a friendly way, and Bella briefly felt warm and nearly whole again. The cheer was body-checked immediately by guilt—she was aware that she was misbehaving somehow. She would pay for all this happiness later.

"So, Bella, do you have any other friends or is Jacob monopolizing you?" Billy's wizened face crinkled over his tea. The weight-loss had aged him. When Jacob forcibly changed the house diet after the amputation, Billy was left with wrinkles and sags where his plumpness had once been. Bella remembered being a child and hearing Billy remark that his girlish figure was "eight months along."

"Actually my co-worker wanted to go out to a movie on Friday," she said, "I've been pretty rude to him, so I decided to apologize and hear him out."

"Friday?" They both asked. Bella nodded.

* * *

><p><em>Mike had been looking at her arm after she'd tried on the new clothes.<em>

_"What's that?" He had asked, indicating her weird scar. Bella clamped her hand over it protectively, feeling the cool skin sting her like a memory._

_"It's one of those white ink tattoos," she lied unconvincingly. He raised an eyebrow and asked,_

_"What is it of?"_

_"A rainbow," she replied. Mike laughed, as though he were in on the joke. Bella was racking up the points in his brain: drinking, motorcycles, stealing iPods, tattoos. He probably noticed the bruises on her knuckles, the dark rings under her eyes. She was looking more and more attractive._

* * *

><p>"Mike Newton?" Jacob asked.<p>

"Yeah. We don't talk at school, but we're always stuck together at work." It took tightly wrapped ignorance to keep her tone innocent.

Billy and Jacob exchanged a look with an inside joke.

"Bella, he asked you on a date."

"What? He doesn't _like_ like me. He's just angry because I tried to hang out with him and then dumped him." It was true, Mike didn't want to date her: he wanted to conquer and crush her. She was toying with the idea of letting him.

"You dumped him?" Jacob asked.

"Well, I mean… I was looking for some friends and you were a better decision." Billy let out a laugh and said a long phrase in Quileute, finding something very funny.

"Friday is Valentines' Day, you know," Jacob said. Bella's heart sank, she had forgotten that. Romance. Maybe it really was a date—maybe he wasn't the creep she had been counting on. Mike couldn't be romantically interested, she told herself.

* * *

><p><em>"I'm always up for a challenge, Amazon. I heard about the rumors," he said, alluding to the rumors about what Bella did in her truck during lunch, "you could always make good on them." He smiled meanly. Bella had looked down at her strong thighs and new clothes; she couldn't quite recognize herself. The lines were all different and it weirded her out. She knew that her body was still soft and smooshy, but underneath the smooshy bits was muscle. She could throw herself away on Mike, it didn't matter if he rejected her and he certainly wouldn't fall for her. She could pop the cork, drink the sour wine and hate herself later. Then Jacob would stay untouched and maybe Edward would even pop in to yell at her. She deserved someone like Mike Newton.<em>

* * *

><p>In the linoleum kitchen tucked into a corner of the square-mile reservation, Bella began to lose her nerve.<p>

"Jake, will you come with me?"

"What?" He asked, as surprised as she was.

"Bring Quil and Embry. We can make it a big gang."

"Just tell him you don't want to go," Jacob said, like a sane person.

"It'll upset Charlie. He likes it when I socialize." _I'm afraid of what I'll do if I go alone_.

Billy shook his head, "Teenagers," he muttered, wheeling himself away.

"Why are you hanging out with Mike if you don't like him?" Jacob asked.

"I don't know," she shrugged, knowing all too well. "It'd just be nice if you were there, too."

Friday came by and, predictably, the big group deflated. No one wanted to hang out with Bella Swan, she was too weird. The excuses meandered in and Jacob gave a lame excuse for why Quil and Embry couldn't make it. She guessed he hadn't even asked. When Mike heard that Jake would be tagging along he cornered Bella by her locker.

"I don't want to be stuck in a car with you and your new boyfriend," Mike sneered.

"He's not my boyfriend, he's my car mechanic. And he's a just a sophomore. Why, are you intimidated?" She met Mike's steady gaze, waiting for him to break it first. His face was pretty and he exuded control and sexual intelligence.

Bella was leaving doors open that she could have easily closed; but a part of her was curious to see how Jacob would interact with Mike. She wondered if he would fight for her. Mike agreed to the carpooling, and Jacob picked Bella up first.

"Maiden voyage!" They shouted together, bumping fists. Bella wished she still had the champagne left so that she could pour it on Jacob's Volkswagen Rabbit, but she knew that drinking any alcohol with Jacob was a form of reckless behavior that she wasn't willing to try yet.

Mike got in the back and immediately tried to assess the situation. Bella seemed friendly with Jacob but they kept their distance. Mike leaned forward, reaching to turn on the radio and putting his head close to Bella's.

"We need some good music," he was saying but Jacob cut him off.

"Bella doesn't listen to the radio." He said, never taking his hands off the steering wheel.

"You don't?" Mike asked, bewildered.

"It's too schizophrenic," Bella muttered, trying to remember how Jacob could have picked up this information about her.

Mike and Jacob started up banter about cars and Bella was able to follow only some of it. She understood the physical mechanisms but she didn't have the vocabulary, and Mike was skipping around through makes and models. Jacob's voice was relaxed, but she could read that his body language was nervous. Bella wondered if that was because he didn't get to go out much, or if he was just thinking about the Volkswagen. There was a fifty-dollar part somewhere bought with Billy's bribe money.

Jacob pulled up in front of the theater and handed some money to Bella.

"Buy my ticket and I'll park the car," Bella nodded but Mike laughed in the backseat,

"Too young for this movie?"

Jacob turned around and gave him a warm smile, "Yeah, I am." He said. Mike got out of the car, muttering to either himself or Bella. But she wasn't paying attention.

"So what is this crap?" Mike asked her before they got into the theater, sliding an arm around her waist. Bella played dumb and extricated herself. This was not as much fun as she had told herself it would be. She felt sick and had a dull headache.

"Let's ditch the chaperone," he said darkly, "unless he's here to watch." She'd been a fool to ever wonder if Mike was romantic.

"No thanks," she returned glibly.

"C'mon," he laughed, "you don't really want to _watch_ that movie, do you?" Mike was a little taller than Bella, but skinny. She had never been afraid of him, never considered him dangerous. He kept inching toward her until she felt her back against a wall, but she still felt calm.

"What kind of kinky shit do you do with that kid anyway?" He asked in a playful voice, "What's he here for, Bella Swan? I don't mind sharing but I'm not a—"

"Shut up, Mike." Bella had overestimated her co-worker. She had thought he'd be more subtle. She thought she'd have more time to think.

"I heard some things from Jessica that made you less appealing," Bella said, looking him up and down as he had once done to her, "apparently you're not very generous." Suddenly, Bella wanted to see Jacob fight Mike. The worm wondered how to engineer this scene, and she had a pleasing image of Jacob knocking Mike down with an arm to the throat.

Mike grabbed her wrist but she slipped out of it with a fluid movement, escaping the space between Mike and the wall. His hand was cold and sweaty, making it easy to break free.

"Don't touch me, Mike," she threatened.

"Listen," he turned around and leaned close, his lips were pale and she thought she smelled stale beer, "slut. You came on to me. You promised _me_ something. What game are you running?"

"I changed my mind," she said, realizing the enormity of the calamity she'd brought on herself. What was her problem? A whisper was muttering in her head, it might have been Edward but she couldn't hear it.

"You don't get to change your mind. I didn't come all the way out here for nothing!" He was sweating and clammy, more agitated than she had anticipated. He made a grab for her hand again and she sprang backward, crashing into Jacob.

"What's—?" Jake began, but then Mike was unsteadied by his own momentum and reached an arm out to catch himself on the wall of the theater.

"Are you okay, Mike?" Bella asked, even though she had been just thinking of kicking his ass. He was pale and he began to shake his head very, very fast.

"No, no I'm-ugh!" He ran and just barely made it to a trash can before vomiting. _What the hell_? Bella thought to herself, sharing a glance with Jacob.

"I'll go get him a bucket from concession," Jake said, slipping into the theater. It looked like the movie was off.

"Are you drunk?" She asked.

"No," he spit into the trash can, "I don't know. I felt funny this morning."

"Then why did you come?" She yelled, taking her anger out on him. He pulled back from the trash can, his t-shirt wet with sweat, and leaned against the wall.

"I wanted to see your kink," he shrugged, "I was bored."

"You thought I was easy," she told him, "Turns out I'm actually really difficult."

"No shit," he panted, spitting onto the sidewalk. "You gotta take me home," he moaned.

"No shit," Bella replied flatly.

They dropped Mike off first, but Jacob idled the car just a few blocks down from Mike's place.

"Thanks for the maiden voyage, by the way," Bella smiled. Jake wasn't looking good either, and he'd been uncharacteristically silent for the whole ride. She wondered if maybe Mike had a virus.

"I'm just glad Mike didn't christen the backseat," Jacob said charmingly, but his heart wasn't in it.

"What's wrong?" she asked, he wasn't looking good.

"I saw him grab you," Jacob said. "Bella… what was he…?"

"It was a misunderstanding," she lied, feeling her face turn hot.

"Was that why you wanted me to come along? For protection?" Bella was silent. Jacob cursed, the first time she'd ever heard him swear with real anger. "Bella! If he hadn't hurled he might have really hurt you. Why did you… why do you hurt yourself like this?"

"Because I'm no good." Her voice was small and trembled. When she turned her teary eyes toward Jacob all her self-loathing disappeared. He looked awful. He was sweating and his hands were shaking.

"Jacob!" She reached over and put her hand to his forehead before swearing. _How could Mike get him so sick so fast?_

"Jake! You're burning up! Let me drive you home."

"No, Bella, I'm okay." She swore and pulled the keys out of the ignition.

"I'm driving." End of argument. Jacob crawled into the back seat and she called Billy to let him know Jake was sick. He was utterly still except for one trembling hand. Maybe she should bring him to the hospital, but she was so close to the reservation. Billy had a van he could drive if Jacob needed help.

"Hang in there, Jacob. You okay?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine." She was sweating, too and her headache was worse. She hoped it was fear. The Rabbit earned its name, and she was surprised by how quickly she got Jake home. Billy was waiting at the bottom of the house ramp, craning to get a look at his only son. Bella slung one of Jacob's orangutan-arms around her shoulders and dragged him toward the house. It had started sprinkling and she hoped the rain would cool Jacob down. Billy couldn't take care of this giant on his own, he just couldn't.

"I'm staying," she said, feeling her skin get prickly and her stomach churn again.

"No, Bella. Charlie is already on his way to pick you up. You don't look well either," Billy said. She had laid Jacob on his messy bed, and when she bent over to unload him she knew what was coming. Luckily, Billy wasn't blocking the door to the bathroom. After she had thrown up she heard Jacob muttering.

"Get her out!" His voice rose to a shout that scared her, "Get her out of the house!"

"Bella, wait for Charlie outside. Jacob is not well." Billy looked pale and Bella's vision was blurring from her stinging eyes.

"He needs a hospital," she said weakly.

"Go outside, now." She was so much bigger than Billy, so tired and ill and worried. But his voice had an authority to it that she couldn't fight, not now. She shambled outside the small house, welcoming the chilly February rain that met her and numbed her headache. But when Charlie arrived she was shivering. She thought she heard Jacob screaming but Charlie would later say he had been too worried and hadn't heard anything. He brought her straight to the hospital.


	9. Fever Dream

_**Author's Note**: I've been AWOL this week so you get a double dose! Enjoy. Next up: One-hundred-and-werewolf!_

* * *

><p>Bella was back in the woods like always, ill and abandoned. She shivered and knew Sam would be approaching soon to take her back to a world without vampires, but this time she would fight him. He wouldn't save her because she didn't want to be saved, especially not by the likes of a gangster like him. But when she lifted her head to scream at the approaching figure she saw that it was Jacob, boyish and younger than he was now. It was Jacob from the beach last year, his cheeks rosy from the cold and a silly knit cap over his long hair. It disarmed Bella, stealing her breath.<p>

Then she heard a horrible cracking and breaking sound: the dream world was disappearing. The trees were falling into an approaching abyss, and their little piece of island was all that was left. She had lured Jacob into this nightmare, and now he would die with her. She reached out to protect him but he didn't want her help. He waved off her hand and took a step forward, growing suddenly in the motion and becoming the Jacob she had just seen: taller, stronger, with more definition to his face. Aging. He helped her up.

"I know a way out," he said, and momentarily her heart gladdened because she believed him. She followed him, hearing the splintering sounds as the nightmare folded in on itself, feeling the sympathetic ache and twist of her own emptiness inside her chest. The snapping trees faded, but she knew they weren't safe yet. Still, Jacob turned around, stopping.

"What is it, Jake? We have to get out of here."

"It's okay," he said, stepping forward and taking her into his arms. He was burning hot, sticky and feverish. She felt dizzy from his heat, parched and stunned. Then his hot lips were kissing the scar on her hairline, kissing her eyebrow, her cheek. She knew they had to leave, the snapping and crumbling sound was coming closer, but she was caught up in his grasp. He found her mouth and she tasted dirt and fire. She struggled but couldn't break free and only drew herself deeper into the kiss, closer into his burning heat. The ground was quaking around them, and with a lurch she was thrown to the forest floor, Jacob pinning her down. She was sweating and could hear the forest roaring around her: the Nothing was closing in.

"We have to go!" She screamed, but she was pinned under Jacob's weight, and he was smothering her, blistering her lips and sucking away her breath. With a sick roll the ground shifted and the two of them were falling.

* * *

><p>Charlie was woken up by the violence of her retching in the bathroom. The hospital had sent them home. Bella had all the signs of a bad flu that was going around and they gave Charlie instructions on how to care for her. She shuffled from her bed to the bathroom for hours, unable to keep even half a glass of water in her stomach.<p>

In that day, there was only the state of nausea for Bella, or sleep. She only felt momentarily better after her body wrung itself dry of any last liquids in her intestines. Then the nausea would return, and the retching, even though it only produced thick yellow bile—and eventually not even that. She punctuated the greyish hell with sleep, but that only brought nightmares and near-hallucinations of Jacob crumpled in her bathroom.

At four a.m. the following day Bella felt completely disconnected from her body. There was a numb hollow in her core, and she could not identify the sensation: illness? Edward? Hunger? She dragged herself downstairs and boiled water, plunking a bouillon cube into a mug. She watched meaningless images flicker on the television for half an hour before she realized that there was no sound on. Eventually she found early-morning children's programming, and sipped hot bouillon while learning about the cardinal directions.

When she called Jacob's house to let Billy know the sickness ran its course in twenty-four hours.

"He doesn't have what you have, Bella," he said.

"Oh," she said dumbly, "how bad is it?"

"You can't come by. Don't call again." And then he hung up. The hollowness in her stomach complained, and Bella went back to bed to try and escape her shame. Charlie had work that day. He peeked his head into her bedroom before he left and she drew out his promise to check in with his old friend Billy. Finally, having a gossip for a father was paying off.

Bella was awake and eating salt crackers when the phone finally rang, but it was Charlie telling her that the phone had been disconnected at the Black's so she shouldn't try to call them. He insisted that they were fine: Jacob had mono and was being kept home from school for awhile, Billy could take care of him. He tried to make a light joke about the _kissing disease_ but Bella was too heartsick and body-sore to respond kindly. She hung up without saying goodbye.

Mono was a cover, she just knew it. She had gone too far this time. Billy and Jacob were close, and his father had never really trusted Bella, with good reason. Maybe he had recognized what Jacob wouldn't—that Bella was bad news. She'd pulled Jacob too deeply into her own self-destruction, and now Billy was going to protect his son from her.

Suddenly, the real possibility of losing Jacob made Bella nervous. She realized too late that she couldn't afford to lose him. All her posturing and pouting, sure that she had hit rock bottom, that nothing could touch her anymore, was revealed to be fallacious. Now she knew saw that she had been climbing steadily upward, and she had gotten high enough that even a minor fall would break something. Jacob had lifted her up so easily that she hadn't even noticed when she left the ground.

* * *

><p>She didn't doubt Billy's ability to care for his own son, even bound to a wheelchair. But after three days not hearing a peep from the Black's house her normal inclination toward anxiety was soaring into paranoia. When she went on morning runs alone her demons surfaced in a way that they hadn't before she'd begun running with Jacob. Memories of Edward ran beside her, incomplete enough in their replication to prevent her from finding any solace in his familiarity. Instead, it was Edward explaining a song she had long forgotten: the one where silence became part of the music. The incorporation of absence into existence.<p>

Her stomach, although lighter and more muscular, felt heavy. Her emptiness and illness grew cancerous inside her now that she was deprived of Jacob's radiation. There was a great welling-up of nothing, threatening to burst her seams before pulling her back inward. She felt like a star in its last stages of life. Life without Jacob.

She tried to put herself through the push-ups and strength training that he usually barked at her, but it was easier to let herself down than to fail in front of Jacob. Worse, and Bella hated to admit it, she honestly missed him: not just his effect on her. She missed the way she read more in his smile than in his mystery-eyes. He had Billy's eyes, she realized only too late, and all his secrets were treasured there. She wanted to look into his eyes again and see if she could see something new. She missed sitting in the Rabbit and turning the ignition while his head was under the hood, yelling, "More gas!" She missed the mutant bear and the tumbling: feeling light and free, like a child.

She had waited four whole days without calling, but when she finally gave in, the phone was still disconnected. She called Harry Clearwater, who was surprised to hear from Charlie's daughter. He assumed she was calling to hear about his recent trip to the hospital. Bella had heard that he went in for some tests, but in her fascination with Jacob she had forgotten that other people had problems. Politely, she listened to the inconclusive results and the doctor's generalized recommendation that he lose weight and eat better to take some strain off his heart.

When he started on about the rangers complaining that the bear sightings were scaring tourists Bella had to break in. She confessed that Jacob Black was the real reason for her concern. The Clearwaters and the Blacks had long been friends, and Harry promised Bella that Jacob was getting the best of care, but no, he hadn't seen little Jake recently. She had been researching mononucleosis and quarantine could last for months; Harry made no effort to convince her that Jacob's convalescence would be any shorter.

There was no internet service at Jacob's house, even though other houses on the reservation had wifi; Billy had never wanted it, and Jacob hadn't asked for it. Without email Bella decided to write to him the old fashioned way. She stopped by the post office and bought the cheapest Forks postcards she could find, and had each one stamped on site. Then, every day on her way to school, she would write him a cheesy line in bright marker.

_Weather's atrocious, wish you were here!_ Or _American capitol of bear maulings!_ Sometimes she would allude to his so-called illness, _Keep fighting that Epstein-Barr Virus!_ But more often she tried to keep it irreverent. Jacob hadn't been sore or tired, and incubation usually took weeks whereas he became sick very suddenly. For her own sanity, she told herself that while Billy may lie or subvert, Jacob would never be so callow. She could maybe still reach him, maybe still win him back. Mike stayed away from her at work and school, and Bella waited for things to return to normal.

* * *

><p>The Cullen mansion in Ithaca had become unbearable. A marble statue slouched in the corner of the house, emitting sorrow and a dark cloud that even Jasper could not dispel. Rosalie and Emmett had been wise to strike out on their own, but Alice had stuck around, hoping he would change.<p>

She'd traipsed along the American South with Jasper as a favor to her brother, collecting visions and information regarding her ex-sister Bella. She'd done that for Edward, hoping that the knowledge, though grey, would at least shake him from his stupor. But she had been wrong, and after months of trying, Alice finally gave up on Edward.

They had left the stagnant and recycled air of the mansion, running wild through the open forests of Canada. As they meandered back to Alaska she was struck by a vision. She'd held close to the border, keeping an ear out for Bella. She hadn't been expecting anything, she'd just been curious.

"Get Edward on the phone, Carlisle," she ordered as soon as she found reception. It took anguishing seconds to hear the dry voice on the other line.

"Hello?" He hadn't eaten in months and it was affecting his cognition. A sated Edward would have realized something was wrong if Alice was calling, would have asked questions and made demands. This was a ghost of her brother.

"Edward, listen to me. I checked in on Bella and things have changed. Jacob's gone and a new path has opened up. Do you remember the red-headed vampire?"

"Victoria." There was a weight to his response, he was waking up. "Victoria is going after Bella?" He asked.

"It's blurry and distant, but yes. Jasper's going to go back to New York so you two can track her—"

"No, I'm going. I have to do this, I have to go now."

"Edward, you can't track her as well as Jasper can, let him—"

"What else did you see? What else was there?"

"The empty path is disappearing and otherwise her future looks mostly uneventful. I have to talk to Laurent in Denali, he might know about Victoria. Don't leave until I talk to him, okay?"

"Goodbye, Alice," Edward said. He didn't listen to his parents who told him to build up his strength. He didn't wait for Jasper or news from Alice. He had a quest. He could help Bella by killing Victoria, he could save her without her ever knowing about it. Tired as he was, Edward blurred through the trees of New York, formulating a plan. He was still of use to Bella, still protecting her.


	10. Je Ne Crois Pas

_**Author's note:**_ _Thank you all for the consistent and helpful reviews! It's always nice to wake up flattered in the mornings. You may have noticed that this Bella doesn't get carried around very much and that she is a fighter. You may have also noticed that she is suffering from some pretty severe psychological maladies. We are entering into the third quarter of the novel and a new reality will be settling in just to complicate matters. Enjoy!_

* * *

><p>At school the rumors got worse, and as she waited for Jacob to contact her Bella began to lose her shields. The illegitimate child rumor had faded into accepted fact. Now there was a flurry of rumors trying to understand how Mike fit into the situation. He played her off as a freak who had brought in a third before he bailed. Not like <em>that<em> made work awkward.

A few more days had passed before she called Jacob again. This time she got Billy, which was better than nothing.

"Jacob is going to Port Angeles with some friends tonight," Billy told her.

"What? He's better? Why didn't he call me?" She demanded.

"Turns out it wasn't mono. Did you want me to tell him you called?"

"Yes! Tell him to call me back as soon as he can!" she yelled, immediately feeling sorry for taking her anger out on Billy, even if he deserved it.

"Sorry, Billy," she apologized, but he had already hung up.

_Where are you, Edward?_ She thought to herself as she drove to the trail head. When she was at her heaviest she had felt more beautiful with Edward than she did now. Sometimes, when she was caked in dirt and sweat, Jacob would point out her biceps or remark on her shoulder strength and she'd feel some of that confidence flicker back, but more often than not she hid her body and avoided mirrors. She wanted to hear Edward again, get him riled up enough to sound like he cared about her—but this time, instead of basking in the familiarity of his voice, she wanted to yell at him. Tell him to give her back what he had stolen, beg him to cool her feverish anger with his pallid skin. She wanted to kiss him hard enough to make him want to kill her. She wasn't thinking very clearly.

Luckily, the two-hour jog calmed her down. She hadn't stepped into this part of the woods in awhile, so far east of Jacob's woods. Without the salt-wind from the ocean, Edward's woods seemed older, draped in moss and dank with fertile magic. She used the map and compass stashed in her glove box, and relied on her memory of the walks with Edward. She had made an x on the map where she guessed the meadow was.

There were familiar giants along the way, trees that had personality and character. These guided her, reminding her that she was on the right path. As the glow approached, her throat seized. She remembered her dream of Jacob, and the salt-spray as he led her to something new and different. She remembered choosing the kiss in her dream—but that wasn't her. She wasn't choosing that now. Bella broke into a run, jumping lightly over the undergrowth, feeling her feet sink in the loam and then spring off hidden branches. She usually kept her toe-shoes in the truck and had changed into them for the trail. Breaking into a sprint she was glad for the traction and connection to the forest floor. When she burst through the trees it would be the meadow. It would be Edward, not Jacob.

But the meadow was barren. The wildflowers had died in the cold and frost, and there was only a brown plain before her. Still, it was better than nothing. Did she want to stay? She stepped forward, waiting to see if the familiarity brought Edward back. Nothing. She knelt on the ground, digging her hand into the cold dirt. The texture of the unrelenting ground and the dissipating frost of its touch brought memories of Edward back—but not his voice. She remembered she had once been vocal and passionate, that she had challenged Edward and he had returned the challenge. She had been dynamic once. Now, no matter how fast she ran, she felt completely static.

She stood up, angry with herself and ready to leave. It had been a mistake. Edward wasn't here. He only arrived when she was in danger, when her psyche presented him as a savior. But then she saw a shimmer at the tree line—maybe her hallucinations had made the happy upgrade from aural to visual. She stepped forward eagerly and Edward's voice said,

"Stop, Bella. Don't move." She obeyed, but more from curiosity than trust. The figure wasn't Edward, the shape wasn't right, and the coloring was dark. But the refraction had to be a vampire.

Laurent.

"Bella, I thought I smelled you," he purred happily, ghosting forward. She felt relief and strange joy at his appearance. If he was real, so was Edward, so was everything. Maybe even Edward's love had been real. "Were we looking for the same vampires?" He chuckled.

Laurent was a good vampire. He had sided with the Cullens against James, and then afterward went to Alaska to train himself in the art of "vegetarianism", as the vampires called it. She could tell he wasn't human, all the rosy-brownness of his skin was missing yet still she felt an instinctual appreciation for his beauty. A smile broke Bella's face and she stepped forward, but Edward's voice returned, telling her to find an excuse to leave.

"I was just on a hike," she said, wondering whether the meadow or Laurent brought about Edward's voice.

"I stopped by the Cullen house," Laurent's voice was melodic and charming with his light French accent, "Where have they gone, and why didn't they bring their pet?"

"Lie, Bella," Edward warned her.

"I couldn't go where they were going. Not yet, anyway," Bella said. Edward urged her on, "But they're coming back for me." She added.

Laurent's chuckle didn't feel friendly this time.

"They left you behind, while Victoria was still on the loose? How irresponsible of them," he smiled. Bella noticed his eyes should be tawny but they were still the blood-red of a true vampire—and quickly turning black.

"Have you run into Victoria?" Bella asked, trying to keep a casual stance. She would never be able to outrun a vampire, even if she were a world-record holder in sprinting. She had to lie her way out, somehow. Edward's voice was muttering in her ear, "Stay very still. Stay very calm."

"In fact I have," Laurent smiled, flashing bright teeth, "when I left Denali. Their rules were too restrictive."

"Jasper had problems with that, too," Bella offered, a crack in her voice betraying her growing fear.

"So I heard." Laurent continued. He was circling her slowly, spiraling closer. "Victoria said the Cullens had left, but I couldn't believe it until I saw it. She's looking for you. It is unfortunate that I will have to disappoint her." Laurent was gliding toward her, inspecting her with amused appreciation.

"What do you mean?" Bella asked reflexively, falling into Laurent's trap.

"She had wanted to toy with you, murder you slowly. Your Edward killed her James, it is only just for her to return the favor. But you are here, and they are not."

She hadn't realized Victoria and James had been together. She had completely forgotten the redheaded vampiress.

"She'll have to revenge herself on the Cullens directly, now. It's better that way, in my opinion. Besides, I can't just leave you here. Not when I'm so _thirsty_."

"Stall him!" Edward yelled, the authority of his hundred years ringing in Bella's ears, "Beg!"

"Please, you can't," she said gently, "they'll come after you, too."

Laurent shook his head. "No, they won't. You should thank me, Bella. Victoria would have drawn this out. I'll be quick." He moved too swiftly, sweeping beside her and snaking a hand into her hair. He arched her back so that she could only keep balance by the tips of her toes, and with one vice-hand he pinned her wrists behind her back, locking out her elbows. She was in an awkward angle with Laurent bending his face into her hair. Even if Jacob had taught her how to escape this hold she knew that were she to struggle she would dislocate a shoulder. Her muscles and joints protested, the angles awkward and painful.

"Who am I kidding?" Laurent laughed into her hair, "I'm going to enjoy this and take as long as I want. You are not usually my type, but I've been so good." He was being dramatic, and Edward's voice was only urging Bella to stay calm, to keep him talking, anything to give her some time. But Bella gave up; she would die at the hands of a vampire in the meadow—just not the vampire she had anticipated. Suddenly Laurent pulled his face from her hair, repulsed.

"_Je ne crois pas_," Laurent muttered to himself. Bella didn't speak French, but she guessed that something had happened—a change had occurred. Maybe she smelled gross—she hoped she smelled horrible. She hoped that she smelled like something putrid and fermenting, anything to choke back the vampire's thirst. Laurent let go of her abruptly, and she barely had time to twist to her side, falling heavily on her shoulder—which was better than hyper-extending her elbows under the weight of her body. Laurent was backing away from her, staring at something else, and Bella followed his gaze.

At first she saw nothing, because she was only human. But eventually, the creature made itself known, stepping from the tree line into the full space of the meadow. It was the mutant bear, solid black but large as a grizzly. Its eyes were bright, almost glowing, and its fur was such a deep black that it took Bella a moment to understand the shape of the animal. She sat up, seeing that it was not a bear at all, but distinctly canine—which was impossible. Wolves did not grow as large as bears, and this monster was much larger than any black bear she had heard of.

"Take the girl," Laurent smiled deferentially, "I give her to you. She is juicy. I am all dust," Laurent hissed. Bella couldn't understand why Laurent should be afraid of the animal or even talking to it—the Cullens regularly hunted bears with no problem, even if this one were larger and actually a wolf, it shouldn't matter. Then she saw what must have scared Laurent: there wasn't just one.

From the forest appeared shades of grey, black, and brown. A dirty, rusty brown came out last and closest to her. She knew she had gone deep into the woods—this was how far Edward had to travel to escape the curse of his supernatural telepathy—but even this deep in the woods, how had these monsters gone undiscovered for so long? The realization came to her as she watched the fluid muscle movements of the wolf nearest her: the only people who clearly saw these monsters were most likely dead. As she looked into the eyes of the nearest beast she thought of Jacob and was inordinately grateful that he was avoiding her, otherwise she might have dragged him into this.

Laurent turned and darted through the trees, the black wolf immediately following. Bella shuddered at the intelligence behind the eyes of the nearest wolf as it stared at her before falling into v-formation with the rest of the pack. They were organized, and though they had seen her, their prey was Laurent. She doubted they would win, and a part of her felt sorry for the huge animals that had interrupted her death. Laurent would draw them out individually, breaking their spines and smashing their skulls, then he would bloat himself on their rank blood.

But she didn't have time to think of that. She scrambled to her feet, glad to feel that her shoulder was still in its socket, and she began to run. She could make it home in nearly half the time it took her to get to the meadow, especially since the slope of the floor was in her favor. It took all her discipline not to sprint like the games Jacob had taught her. If she gassed out now, she would find herself crawling at the end. She let the slope carry her, "controlled falling" Jacob called it. She fell a few times, but managed to roll back into a nearly seamless run—only once smashing into a log and dazing herself for a half minute. _I am Running_, she told herself, _this is all there is. I am always running._

She drove the truck at top speed, reaching almost fifty miles per hour, to get to Charlie. Laurent may have killed off that pack, but there could be more. They weren't bear sightings at all: mutant wolves. Giant wolves, five of them, hunting in packs. She tried to keep the information fresh in her mind, ready to give a detailed description to her father. Charlie was suspicious, but Bella was covered in dirt and sap, and her clothes were ruined from the falls she took in her haste.

"No more hiking in the woods," he said, reaching for the phone.

"Agreed," Bella answered breathlessly. She had seen enough to keep her out of those woods forever. Charlie called in the report, mentioning that the ranger who had identified the tracks as wolves must be on to something. He agreed that the size didn't make sense, but it was a lead and they would have to follow it up. When his phone call was over Bella had just jumped out of the shower and was preparing to inhale cold leftovers.

"Slow down, sport. Don't you want to heat it up?" Bella reddened, chastised by her father's friendly offer. She agreed to let him fix her a proper meal while she gulped down water. No binging tonight.

"Jacob didn't go with you?" he asked in a too-casual voice.

"No," Bella said in a voice that was so flat Charlie believed her.

"I saw him on my way home, just before you showed up. He wasn't too far off from where you were," he said, "He looks different. You can watch that boy grow right in front of you."

"I wouldn't know. He's been quarantined for so long," Bella didn't want to be talking about this.

"He was arguing with some other boys, and they all looked kind of bushwhacked. Just thought he might have been out there with you, could have corroborated." This was not what Charlie had meant, and both of them knew it. He was hoping that Bella was sneaking out to see Jacob, like a normal teenager. Instead, she was running around with bear-wolves.

"Do you know who they were?" She asked quietly, failing to keep her voice disinterested.

"One was Sam Uley. The others were young, about his age but smaller. I wonder how Billy feeds that boy," he muttered to himself.

Bella took the plate Charlie offered her and ate in silence, thinking about Jacob. He had been changing, and now he was hanging out with other people, maybe even Sam. But if they'd been arguing, perhaps he was standing up to Sam, maybe fighting to get Embry back. If he was ignoring her, he might be trying to win back some old friends. She wondered if Quil had been taken, too. It hurt to think of Jacob starting anew, washing her away. But it was better this way, Bella was bad news: she attracted vampires and mutant wolves. She excused herself when she realized she wasn't hungry anymore and went upstairs.

* * *

><p>She examined the pithy lock on her hardboard door. It wasn't even really a lock, just one of those push-button things that could be hacked with a coat hanger or a bobby pin. The door itself was particle board, Charlie had knocked his fist through his own right after Renee left. Until Bella moved in, there had just been a needlepoint Bible quote hanging over the hole, but he decided to replace the door just before she arrived.<p>

She looked at her window, the one that a vampire had used as an entrance for a year. The window that had been kept in impeccably well-oiled condition so that she wouldn't even wake up when it was opened. She wasn't safe. Laurent would track her smell, or at least tell Victoria—_Victoria_.

Bella shuddered. She briefly imagined herself, changed, and in Victoria's position. The image was eerily pleasant at first: Victoria was gorgeous, and Bella had always envied the short, curvaceous girls at her school. Victoria was a fertility goddess with flame hair. It wouldn't be so bad to inhabit that body.

But what would she do if Edward had been killed, back when he loved her? The intense and immediate rage that flared when she thought of someone killing Edward only confirmed her fears: Victoria was the one she should fear. Vampires were usually stalwart in their emotions. She guessed that Victoria, regardless of the depths of her love for James, would willingly bear a grudge until the messy end.

She again glanced at the frail window. The wolves might not be able to jump this high, and they hadn't appeared interested in Bella for some inconceivable reason. Any mate of James' must be as insane as he was: he had been laughing until they beheaded him. Her stomach flipped upside-down and Bella switched channels, not wanting to remember that night. She was physically exhausted from the running and the adrenaline, but it took hours for her brain to quiet down enough that she could sleep.

The nightmares weren't very different, except that as she wandered the vast loneliness, she kept her heart silent, afraid it would wake the bloodthirsty redhead in the distance. As soon as Laurent told Victoria that the Cullens weren't protecting Bella anymore, nothing could save the little Swan house. They would probably kill Charlie, too. For the first time, her father figured into her dreams, but only for the instant it took to watch Victoria snap his neck. Bella woke, screaming into her pillow. She waited for the sounds of Charlie getting out of bed, but there was only silence. Usually Charlie snored and a terrified part of Bella realized he was too quiet: he was already dead.

"Dad?" She yelled, jumping out of bed and rushing to his bedroom. His voice stopped her before she could open the door.

"Hold on a minute, Bella. I'm not decent." She fell against the wall, holding back tears of relief and shaking. By the time Charlie opened his door Bella was crumpled in the hallway, her hands clutching her head. He cursed and knelt beside her.

"What's going on, Bells? You okay?" She nodded and managed to stammer,

"It was just those wolves. I just had a nightmare is all." She could never tell him the truth.

Days passed and Bella remained on edge. What she knew of vampires told her that leaving was not an option: her scent would always lead back to Charlie. And if Victoria were half as cruel and insane as her mate James had been, she would delight in killing the father. Bella felt safer during the day, but her sleep was fitful—always anticipating the attack. She felt as though the pretty vampire were closing in, making smaller and smaller concentric circles. Victoria was playing with her, drawing out the time of Bella's demise. Maybe she was watching Bella go insane, maybe she was enjoying it.

She couldn't pull her features into a convincing mask anymore, and her hollow stare began to unnerve Charlie. His comments around her made Bella suspect that he blamed Jacob for her relapse. But she was glad Jacob was avoiding her, it meant he wouldn't stumble into her path of danger. She had already swallowed Charlie, her own father. When she looked at him her heart wrenched, seeing the invisible mark of death upon him. As the days passed she was frozen in horror, unable to find a route for escape from the inevitable. Her only safety had been the strength of the Cullen clan, but they had abandoned her. She could not leave Charlie to die alone and no matter how far she ran they could track her.

Spring break was about to begin, and Bella would be cooped up inside the house most of the day, alone with her fears. She was sure that Victoria would have made her move by now if she had heard from Laurent. She began to feel enough confidence in the daylight that she returned to running and missing Jacob. Her first morning of spring break, as she was jogging along the road, grimly imagining a cold arm snaking out of the woods and snatching her, she put the pieces together. Jacob wasn't just sick or busy, and he wasn't even avoiding her. _Sam_ must have finally gotten to him. Sam had that effect on the boys at LaPush—breaking them away from all their old friends. Everything made sense when she framed it around Sam's gang. But she had to be sure first.

She called Jacob's house when she got home and Billy answered, saying Jacob was out with friends. She wondered if he said that on purpose, knowing it would hurt her to be excluded from that category.

"With Quil?" She asked.

"No, I don't think he's with Quil today," Billy said in his two-tone voice: saying one thing, meaning another.

"Maybe Embry?" She pressed. This option sounded good to Billy, and he agreed that yes, Jacob and Embry were out together. Bella hung up, it was all the verification that she needed. Jacob wasn't fighting for Embry, he had been taken in by the gang.

This time when she got into the truck she didn't talk herself out of going to LaPush, as she had so many times before. She wasn't going out of selfishness anymore, and the danger of the vampire seemed suspended. Besides, she would be home before nightfall; if tonight were her final night on earth, the vampires would still wait for twilight.

She was going to LaPush to save Jacob. He had been afraid of Sam, and adamant that he would never willingly join the gang. She had promised him she wouldn't let him be taken away, and she had utterly let him down. As Bella drove, she thought back to the cult research she had done when she first met Edward. The memories stung, but the urgency of the present managed to override her brain's attempts to rekindle images of Edward in Bella's mind. She didn't have time to feel that pain, not now. When Victoria came, she would let herself be consumed by the lack of Edward, to distract her from whatever Victoria wanted to unleash on her. But right now she had to save Jacob; she had already lost weeks' worth of time


	11. BAMF Bella tries to save Gangster Jake

_**Author's Note:** In the last chapter I threw in a little French (which I don't speak, sorry) but_ je ne crois pas_ means "I don't believe it".__ **Warning**, there is going to be some severe angsting and hopelessness in this chapter. Harry Potter recommends a chocolate bar. In a few chapters I will personally be recommending bourbon whiskey. I won't be straying much more from canon than I already have (okay...maybe a _little_ more *devil smile*) but I will be thrusting deeper into the psychological trauma that just about everybody in Forks seems to have. _

* * *

><p>As she was driving along the roads leading into the reservation, she saw a familiar-looking figure and for a hysterical moment she thought that it was Jacob and she could simply kidnap him. As she approached she saw the hair and shoulders weren't right, and although he was tall, he wasn't tall enough to be Jacob—it was Quil. He was a good second choice.<p>

"Hey, Quil!" Bella shouted, rolling down her window despite the rain that was starting. Quil looked lost and morose, his clothes already soaked in the light rain. He waved limply.

"Need a ride?" She asked. He ran around to the passenger side of the cab and let himself in without answering.

"Thanks, Bella." He cleared his throat. He sounded like he had been crying. Quil, the brawny muscle-boy, had been crying.

"I'm looking for Jacob," she said, getting straight to the point, "have you seen him?"

"I saw him as he left," Quil sighed.

"Was he with Sam and his gang? Did they get to him?" Quil stared at her, surprised she knew this information.

"Yeah," he fumbled, then with anger, "Yeah! Sam got his teeth into Jacob a couple weeks ago. This time, it only took Jake _one day_ to convert to Sam's clan. It takes most of the disciples three or four days. Jacob was eager, I guess. He'd been avoiding me even earlier than that." He glared at Bella, "I thought it was just because of you. But then I saw that they cut his hair."

She could hear a catch in Quil's voice. He stuttered to a stop, not wanting to look weak in front of a girl.

"I'm going to save him," Bella said. "I'm going to get him back from Sam. I should have seen it sooner, but I thought he was only avoiding _me_."

"They got him," he said. Bella could see that he was extremely emotional, "The way Sam looks at me now… I'm next. They got Jake. If they can get him… I'm not safe." His voice was hopeless, and it hurt Bella to hear him so weak.

"Do you think it's drugs?" She asked, trying to remember the different methods of brainwashing. She knew that most were reversible, and Jacob had a good chance the sooner she got to him.

"Not any drug I can think of," Quil said, snorting back more tears and coughing, masking the emotion in his voice. "Drop me off at the store, it's near to my house," he mumbled quietly, trying to regain his composure. As Bella pulled up to the front of the little store he said, "They were in the woods earlier, but he has to return to his house sometime. Are you going to stake it out?"

"Yes," Bella said, her voice burning with self-righteous power, "I'm going to sleep in my damned truck if I have to."

"If they got Jake," he repeated numbly, "they can get anyone. I'm not safe from them. No one is." He sounded like he was already gone. Bella hated Sam for striking that kind of fear into these kids.

She parked under a tree on the Black's property so that the rain wouldn't fall as loudly on her truck. She saw Billy peek out from one of the windows and scowl—of course he had heard her coming. Bella's knee jiggled and her body felt jittery. Would she fight them? She couldn't possibly win; Jacob had taught her only a few skills, and the others had been practicing for years. She had to see Jacob, see how bad it was. Would he be a zombie? She remembered the few times he had told her about Sam, and the fear that crept into his usually calm voice. _They cut his hair_, why did that phrase haunt her?

There was a loud knock on her window and she jumped, screaming in a high-pitched squeal. It was Jacob. _Damn it, Bella_, she muttered to herself, rolling down the window. She was supposed to be saving Jacob, not shrieking. She was already at a disadvantage. She tried to rearrange her features to look stern and in control, but she could see Sam and two others standing further off, watching Jacob.

"I didn't tell you that you could come by." He said. His voice was deeper and his jaw was set. What scared her most wasn't the hostility in his eyes, it was that he didn't look like Jacob. He looked like the other boys behind him: thick shorn hair on smooth skin, unblinking eyes, rolled back shoulders and his chin cocked aggressively forward. He had always been big, but now he used that to appear intimidating. He looked dangerous.

"I need to talk to you," she said, struggling to roll down the sticky window, giving up when it was only halfway cracked. The curtains of glossy black were replaced by a military cut, and that minor change had hardened and sharpened his bone structure. The friendliness to his eyes was gone, his neck seemed wider, like it had finally grown into his broad shoulders. The soft edges of his chin had turned into strong lines. He had aged in only two weeks. They had sucked all the baby fat off his sweet face.

"Get it over with," he said, gripping his hands onto the jutting glass of the window—Bella was afraid he might snap it, his hands looked so tense. She could see all the veins in his hands and arms. The seams of his t-shirt tightened around his biceps. It was as though he had been jacked up on steroids and deprived of water; his muscles seemed bigger and all the comforting softness of his skin had disappeared, so that now it was only a sheath covering sinew. But steroids weren't enough to brainwash him.

"I need to talk to you in private." Bella nodded towards Sam, keeping her voice low. She kept her eyes away from Sam; looking at him made her want to turn violent—but she wouldn't win that fight, though she could already feel her heart racing in anticipation of a riot. Sam was older than Jacob, better trained, slightly larger even. He had reassurance on his face that Bella hated: Jacob was his, he didn't fear this _girl_. Jacob looked for confirmation and Sam gave a small, short nod. The gesture made Bella livid.

"The woods," he said gruffly, jerking open her door. Bella felt her body shaking with anger. Jacob had once been free, friendly, young; this Sam had enough confidence in his power over Jacob to _allow_ him to talk to her.

When she was on the ground she noticed that Jacob probably wasn't much bigger in terms of muscle mass, but his clothes and posture made him seem larger. His shoulders were back, and he walked as though led by his belt, his body rolling easily in long strides. He no longer hunched forward, trying to hear what the little ones were saying. He let the rain fall in his eyes.

He was barefoot, his feet caked in mud. They must have been running, but she couldn't tell if he had been sweating. The light rain had covered his skin in a slick sheen and his clothes were dark: black t-shirt, black cut-offs. The uniform.

The other guys in Sam's gang wore cut-off shorts and cotton t-shirts as well. Jacob used to wear jeans, old plaid shirts, old sweatshirts and grey sweatpants, always hand-me-downs from other boys in the tribe. These clothes were of the modern fashion that showed off his musculature—that meant they were new. Bella wondered where the money came from. How old was Sam? How had he amassed enough resources to create this small, powerful gang? He couldn't be too far into his twenties.

Bella was trying to think of how she would form her first sentence, eager to get out of Sam's suffocating presence. But as soon as they were a few feet into the woods, Jacob maneuvered in front of her, blocking her path. The full grace and fluidity of his movement startled her. He had always held back, been modest concerning his balance and strength. When he concentrated, he could be as fluid as a dancer, but around Bella he had always been lanky and loose. Now he wore his limbs and strength as armor. His silent feet could propel his body into the air with little effort, and he knew exactly where to stand in order to make Bella nervous.

"I know what you think," he said. "You are wrong. I was wrong." His body language was intimidating, but there was something in his eyes that didn't match his posturing. Jacob had learned a terrible secret. He had been forced to shoulder a heavy burden and it had aged him. Bella couldn't be here.

"I can see what he's done to you, Jake," Bella's voice was accusatory, she had to shake Jacob out of this mind control. "I'm here to remind you who you are!" She stepped toward Jacob, and he stepped back, his hands clenching. He looked away from her. He could feel that Sam was right, that Bella was dangerous to him.

"I know the truth," he addressed the trees, "I know all of it now, and Sam is the good guy in all of this." His teeth were set in a grimace akin to physical strain, and the bright white of his enamel flickered in the shade of the trees. The rain was caught by the canopy, but Bella could feel her clothes saturating with cold.

"I thought I was your friend," she said.

"You were," he said flatly. But Bella wouldn't take it. Images of Sam's smug grin flashed in her mind and she felt rage.

"I still _am_! I promised you that I wouldn't let Sam take you," angry tears emerged, breaking the flow of her speech. Jacob's eyes flickered towards her and her anger ebbed, "and I am so sorry that I failed you," She sucked in a breath, "but I'm here to right what is wrong."

Jacob swallowed, disturbed and turning away from her. He had changed. He could no longer sit with her pain. He had faced unwavering introspection and worse: seeing himself through Sam's eyes. From the outside he had seen, with dawning clarity, what Bella actually meant to him. Then he had been severed from her.

"You didn't fail me, Bella. The damage is done, it's too late."

"Sam put these ideas in your head, think for yourself, Jake!" She was having a hard time controlling her temper. Jacob had always been straight with her, but now he spoke like Billy, putting weight into words she didn't understand, speaking second meanings behind every sentence. _What damage_?

"Stop blaming Sam. _He's_ not the one to blame!" Jacob's voice broke into a roar, all his temerity turned into virile anger. He could smell the ice on her, the poison trapped under her skin. They had taken her from him, _they_ had done this to him.

"You tell me who is to blame!" She grabbed him by the sleeve of his shirt, her knuckles pressing into his skin—it was still fever-hot. Something was very wrong with Jacob. He yanked his arm back and angled his body away from Bella, poised between running and staying.

"Let him calm down," Edward's voice broke in.

"Who's to blame if it isn't your perfect Sam? Tell me who is to blame," Bella hissed, ignoring Edward's appearance in her head. It only meant that her grasp on reality was giving way again. She could see that Jacob was getting mad as she insulted Sam, but maybe she could break his defenses that way.

"You won't like it, Bella," Jacob warned with an unnatural smile.

"Let him go. Don't get him angry," Edward was warning her. But Bella was unstoppable. If Edward was in her brain, she'd hit insanity. She was at rock bottom again and fearless. She would become Invincible Emotionless Girl.

"Who took you from me?" She advanced on him, her voice rising, "I'll kick his ass! If it wasn't Sam, who am I supposed to blame for this?" Jacob didn't step back this time, instead he crouched, bringing himself a little closer to Bella's level, and he lowered his voice to a sing-song whisper.

"You know who did this to me? You really want to know?" There was a trembling, insane laugh behind his voice. She absolutely could not recognize the figure in front of her, and it made her all the more wild.

"Calm down, Bella!" Edward shouted.

"Tell me!" Bella screamed again, bringing her fist against Jacob's chest, trying to snap him out of his trance. He easily grabbed her wrist wrapping his heavy hand around the sock sleeve that covered her scar. He could feel the mark of death through the fabric, the wound she had to carry.

"You're bloodsucking boyfriend did this to me." He said wrenching the fabric over her hand and exposing the white blistered kiss on her skin, "All your beloved Cullens; those leeches that left you broken and ruined. They broke me, too, Bella. Those _vampires_ did this to me."

Bella's throat stopped, the breathing caught somewhere in the cup of her clavicle. Jacob knew her secret, the secret he had once laughed at and dismissed as a scary story. How did this happen? She raked a foot down Jacob's shin and wrenched her hand from his grip, a trick he had once taught her. She held her arm protectively, as though the scar were fresh. He gave a mean laugh.

"Very good." He said, straightening and unhurt.

"That's not what happened," she said, shaking her head in disbelief. "That's not it."

"You can't fool me any more, Bella," he said, assuming his cocky stance again and rolling back his shoulders.

"S-so that's what Sam does to you," Bella's voice quaked. She wrapped her fingers around the scar, hiding it from Jacob. "He gets you to believe those old superstitions. You sound ridiculous, Jake," but Bella couldn't keep the shake out of her voice. "You sound like Billy."

"My father knows more than he lets on. We were wrong about everything. You were wrong about those _Cullens_," he hissed the name and Bella cringed. "I see what they've done to you. I'm not the brainwashed one. But I cannot save you now." She had chosen her alliance, and Jacob's blood had chosen his for him. She couldn't be here.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Bella insisted hollowly, the fight gone out of her. She was unable to ever confirm Edward's secret. She shifted the story, turning it back on Jacob, bringing out her anger against him and Sam, "And I don't see how they could have turned you into a militaristic douchebag!" She hated Sam more than ever now, he had used Jacob—her sweet, gentle Jacob—to hurt her using the most effective weapon: Edward.

"The bloodsuckers set events in motion," Jacob's breathing shuddered and he stuck out an arm, holding onto a nearby tree, his shoulders slumping forward. She could see his chest rising and falling with his erratic breathing. He didn't look healthy, despite his build. He was exhausted. He had orders that turned his body into a marionette, he had instincts that made him beastly, and he was finally, awfully aware of the lost chance he had with this strange girl. Bella was dangerous to Jacob because he was in love with her, and it was a hopeless, futile love. She saw the half-rotten tree wood splinter under his grip.

"What did they set in motion?" Bella cried, "Why are you blaming them? They've been gone for half a year!"

"I blame them for existing!" He raged, pulling down the limb of the tree. His hands reached to his head, trying to grip his hair but he only found skin and prickles. He let out a frustrated shout. She shouldn't be here.

"Back away, Bella. Let him calm down," Edward advised.

"You sound insane," she said, straightening and finding strength in her voice.

"What's done is done," Jacob said staring at the raw white flesh of the tree. "There's nothing else to say. Goodbye, Bella."

"What?" Bella was angry again, and Edward interrupted her thoughts, trying to calm her down, "Shut up!" She yelled crazily. "You can't go, you haven't explained _anything_!" She blocked Jacob's path, putting her hands out to stop him. He seemed unwilling to let her touch him and held back.

"Let me pass," he said, gritting his teeth and avoiding Bella's eyes. He was trembling, and Bella wondered if he was going through withdrawals. He had to return to Sam for another hit. She couldn't let him.

"I saw Quil today," she said, her voice working fast, "He was over the edge with fear. He knows what Sam did to you. He's so scared of your Sam, and he's afraid he's next." This hit Jacob hard. He reeled back from Bella, pressing his weight into another tree and groaning. He shook his head muttering,

"No. No, it has to be over now. No!" He was the last piece of the puzzle, the final key. They didn't need any more. His was the blood of the chieftains, he was supposed to be enough to satisfy the quota. He slammed his fist into the side of the tree and a crack formed in the wood.

The two of them stared at the crack and at Jacob's hand. His eyes went from anger to horror. It became very real to Jacob at that moment that he could hurt Bella, maybe even kill her.

"I have to get back," he said urgently, straightening and trying to move past her.

"You're going to go hide behind Sam?" She shouted, trying to get him angry again. When he was angry at least he told her things.

"Yes," He said evenly, moving past her with a long stride.

"Stop!" She yelled, catching up to him, "You can't go!"

"Bella," Jacob said as she stumbled alongside him, "We can't be friends anymore. Go home." His voice was brutal.

"Go home," Edward agreed.

"No," she whispered, feeling her legs weakening as the adrenaline left her, "You can't break up with me, Jake." The words were stupid, but she was exhausted and overwhelmed by the flux of emotions.

Through Sam's clarity Jacob had seen his own memories. Now he saw her clearly, saw a future he would never have, a future he hadn't known he was missing. She was too dangerous for him. Jacob turned quickly and began an easy run back to Billy's house, but Bella followed doggedly.

"I still love you!" She yelled after him. It made him stop as though shot in the back. The feathery and thorned whip of hope thrashed inside Jacob. She continued, babbling,

"I need you, you're my only friend in the whole world! You're the last thing I love! I promised I wouldn't let Sam take you! And you can't leave me, Jacob! You _promised_ you wouldn't!" Jacob turned and his face was inscrutable. They were out in the open now, the full strength of the rainstorm falling on both of them. He didn't need to see her tears to know she was crying, but he hoped she could not tell that he was, too.

"I'm sorry, Bella," he said, keeping his voice even. Sam was listening. He had to get rid of her, now. Bella was choking the rain and her own sobs, floundering for words that would make Jacob stay.

"Why are you doing this?" She asked pathetically, dragging herself to him. She twisted her hand Jacob's his soggy uniform, a futile attempt to keep him. He meant it, whatever Sam had told him, he had taken it all in.

"It's for your own good," Jacob stammered, "I'm not… I'm not _Jacob_ anymore,"

A hole formed in Bella's torso as she felt all her vital organs disappear. Horror and anguish took their place and her eyes flew open wide and she reached out, cupping Jacob's face in her hands, forcing him to look at her.

"No!" She cried, "Don't listen to him! Did Sam tell you that? You _are_ Jacob!" She wanted to convince herself of this as much as him. "Jacob, whatever you think you are, you are _more_ than that! Don't listen to Sam! Listen to me!" She'd pulled him close to her, and an old reflex awakened. She was so close to kissing him. Perhaps it was a fairytale, perhaps this was the magical gesture. It was her last shot. She didn't notice that Jacob's body language wanted the same.

"It wasn't Sam," Jacob's voice trembled and she could see the rain brimming on his eyelashes.

He'd had so many chances, lost so many opportunities. The whip of hope lashed and fluttered. If she would give them up, turn away from the venomous creatures, maybe he could still save her. Then he remembered splintering the tree. Then he remembered his own rages. He could never have Bella.

"I'm not…_good_ anymore. I used to be," he shook his head, "but that's gone." He used his huge hands to control her own, breaking away from the intimacy of their position.

"What has he _done_ to you?" Her voice was hoarse. Her dark hair stuck to her temples, bringing out the circles under her eyes and the sharp contrast of her muddy irises to the whites around them. She looked haggard and pathetic, but even this wouldn't stop Jacob from knowing the truth: Bella Swan was beautiful. He watched her futile fight, knowing that it only made him love her more and cut the whip deeper.

"Nothing. I know what I am. I know the truth, and I'm protecting you from it."

"I've had _enough_ of protection!" Bella screamed, angrily flailing against Jacob. "I want _truth_, Jacob! Tell me the _truth_!" She beat on his chest with open hands, shaking from the immanence of his abandonment.

"I'm sorry," he said absorbing her blows easily. They weren't the punches he had taught her, they were just the final throes of her hysteria. He stepped back and Bella stumbled forward, carried by the momentum of her anger. She caught herself and watched as Jacob ran back into the house.

Bella stood in the rain, staring open-mouthed and heaving as the small house swallowed her huge friend. She couldn't tell if she was crying anymore, the rain had replaced her tears. She felt like she was drowning. She stood motionless, her shoulders lurching as she fought back hiccuping sobs.

Billy opened a window and shouted in his steady voice,

"I let Charlie know you're on your way home." Then the window shut with a bang. It was over. Jacob wasn't going to come out of that house. He had severed his ties with her. He was Sam's. She had failed him, she had waited too long.

Bella found herself back in the truck, driving slowly back to her house. Her body was shaking, but she couldn't tell if it was cold or nerves. When she squelched into the house, Charlie was waiting in the kitchen. A look crossed his face that made Bella realize she must be scaring him.

"Jacob and I had a fight," she explained hollowly.

"Get those boots off," he said, standing and helping her peel off the soaked jacket. Bella mechanically kicked off her boots, trying to explain.

"Sam Uley says Jacob can't be my friend anymore."

"Sam said that?" Charlie asked, confused.

"Jacob's part of his gang now." She mumbled.

"Sam Uley?" He eyed her, but Bella's face was blank with shock. "Okay," he said quickly, "go get into the shower, Bells, you're cold as death."

Bella took a faster shower than Charlie had anticipated. When she stepped out, wrapped in towels, she could hear his side of the conversation on the phone. He must have called Billy. She sat on the edge of her bed, able to hear every word if she sat perfectly still.

First, Charlie yelled at Billy that Bella hadn't meant to lead Jacob on. There was some painful talk about how bad she had been right after Edward and the other Cullens left. Then Charlie threatened Billy, saying that Jacob had helped Bella pull out of most of that, but now it looked like she was right back where she began.

"God help me, if your son did to my daughter what that Cullen boy did, I'll—"

Billy must have cut him off, but whatever he said didn't calm Charlie down. His voice got louder, much angrier.

"Who the hell are you to tell me I don't know my daughter? Goddamnit, Billy, you're my friend but I won't let you talk about Bella that way!"

The conversation snaked back to Jacob and Sam. Charlie threatened all the possible surveillance he could, swearing that he would throw everything he had at those boys if they ever stepped out of line. Charlie was going to fight for his daughter, he wouldn't let Jacob put her into another depression.

"We'll be watching you," Charlie warned. Bella gave a hollow laugh. Billy had given her that same warning once through Jacob. Her face crumpled, threatening tears and she collapsed backwards on the bed, unable to listen any more. She wasn't sure if she should feel grateful to Charlie or horrifically embarrassed, but she could only feel the energy of fighting back hysteria.

She calmed herself as she had a million times before, bringing herself back to emptiness. Nothingness was good. It was better than the hysteria and rage she had felt earlier in the evening. She toweled her hair dry and changed mechanically into her bed clothes, but when she got under the covers, her face peeled back into a silent scream.

She was crying. Over _Jacob_. He didn't just abandon her, he had also abandoned himself. There was no Jacob Black anymore, and the grief washed over her as though he had died. The more she tried to muffle the sounds and repress the sobs, the more exhausted she became, her breath shortening and her lungs aching. The tears and histrionics came out like vomit, wrenching her guts and arching her back.

Her eyes felt cadaverous, as though the space in her sockets had expanded. Despite her damp hair, she felt dry and brittle. She wanted to break apart. Jacob Black had been annihilated, and it was her fault. She had failed to protect him. She fell asleep still crying, met only by vicious nightmares.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Side note:<strong> The quote "Whatever you think you are, you are more than that" comes from National Novel Writing Month, but I think it applies universally. Live it._


	12. Bound AKA: Naked werewolf in my room

_**Author's note:** Is it hot in here or is there a naked werewolf in my room?_

* * *

><p>None of her body belonged to her any more. James tore at the soft white of her arm with his venomous teeth, laughing and playfully shooting her blood through a gap in his teeth. Edward artfully hollowed out her middle, then skinned her carefully, humming with the concentration of a French butcher. But she wasn't even graced with the visage of Edward—only the blank, faceless space that her mind identified as what once was her lover, the <em>mancanza<em>. Jacob scraped with long nails, peeling away what was left, ruining the shape of her musculature and leaving only gore and viscera for Victoria, who plunged her face greedily into the mess.

Bella woke, coughing and heaving from what must have been a choked scream. Her head was pounding and her eyes were sticky. There was an eerie scratching noise at her window and her heart fainted.

This was the night. Victoria had finally come, and she'd managed to choose the night where Bella was most powerless. Bella had been right, Victoria must have been watching her. She tried to calm herself, maybe this was for the best. She felt dead already. Maybe if she gave herself quickly, Victoria wouldn't bother with Charlie. She walked mechanically to the window, trembling to let in her fate. She would remember Edward: he would numb her to the oncoming pain. She opened the floodgates, remembering their first dinner together. His nervous, pale hand stretched on the table in front of her. The shame he felt confessing his secret, the melodic and tragic way he had said,

"You cannot love a vampire."

She threw open the window, beckoning death and whispering her response, "Watch me."

A small pebble sailed into her room, dinging her dresser.

There was a whispered expletive. It was masculine. It was not Victoria. Bella followed the reverse trajectory of the pebble—someone was in her backyard. The rain was light, and she could barely make out the shape of Jacob standing on the lawn, throwing pebbles at her window.

"Jake-?" Her voice was hoarse and cracked from the sobbing, her head dizzy from lack of sleep. Her ribs caved, angry to be refused the drug of memory.

"Stand back, Bella!" Jacob warned. He took a balancing pose and then threw himself at the tree across from her window, quickly scaling the trunk and then easing himself onto a branch higher than her window. Bella watched stupidly as he began to swing himself. Then he said in a stage whisper, "Move!" and Bella cringed back, covering her face, as Jacob threw himself at the side of the house. There was a heavy, muffled thud from Jacob's impact and her shoulders jerked in horror.

She had driven him insane, too. They were a twisted pair in a toxic relationship. She had been ready to acquiesce to her death, a sort of assisted suicide. And now he'd gone and killed himself, right in front of her, driven mad. Or maybe he had only half-succeeded and she would find him broken and bleeding on the ground as he suffered. She looked up, ready to race to her window, but stopped, seeing Jacob crouched on her bedroom floor. He rose to standing and turned on the lamp on her desk. He wasn't wearing a shirt or shoes and his face was uneasy. Steam came off his skin in the lamplight.

Bella's knees gave up on her. She couldn't take this. Jacob rushed forward, just barely catching her in time. He held her by the shoulders and angled her to sit clumsily on the bed.

"Bella?" He asked, concerned. Everything was different than how she had left him. He wasn't angry or mean, but he still wasn't right. He still wasn't the blushing boy or the awkward friend.

"I thought you were killing yourself," she said monotonously, thinking to herself, _I was_. Jacob put his hand to her face, to feel her temperature. The warmth and heat of his body shocked her, sending adrenaline down her spine and waking her up. There was a half-naked man, to whom she was unnervingly attracted, dripping all over her floor, and she was in a t-shirt and sweats.

"Get out of my bedroom!" Bella hissed, crossing her arms and looking for a sweatshirt. She had just cried herself sick over him, then dreamed about him stealing away her muscles and flesh. She thought he was Victoria, and she had thought she was prepared to take the torture and pain of whatever death Victoria would give her. Instead, she got Jacob, reenacting the entrance of her ex-boyfriend. Her body was further complicating things and she wasn't wearing a bra.

"Get out right now!"

"Shh!" He hushed her, "I'm so sorry about what happened earlier today. It was… Oh God, it was so horrible. I'm so sorry, Bella," he slunk over to the chair in the corner of her room and sat in it, heavily. Edward had sat there many times before him. He really was trying to sear away her memories of Edward. He even sank his head into his hands, a gesture Edward had made all-too-often. Bella couldn't stand the resemblance.

"Get up!" She nearly shouted, jumping out of the bed and rushing towards him. Jacob stood, afraid she might actually give him away. She saw a sweatshirt on the floor and pulled it on quickly. He backed towards her dresser, putting his hands up defensively.

"Bella, I came to apologize," He said.

"You had to break into my room to do that?" She didn't know where to stand in her room, Jacob took up so much of the space with his presence. The sweatshirt was too hot, her head hurt. It was too much, she began to hyperventilate.

"I can't breathe," she whispered, her face falling and her body crumpling into the chair. She put her head between he knees and Jacob talked her through breathing, something he'd done on their runs.

"It's me, It's Jacob. I'm here to apologize but I don't have a lot of time," he said. When Bella realized she wasn't going to die that night and that Jacob—the Jacob she had been trying to save—was in her room, her brain snapped into action. She sat up straight so suddenly that she almost hit her head on Jacob's.

"Whoa!" He said, dodging out of her way. Her eyes were venomous and angry.

"You son of a bitch," she snarled and then lunged at him. Sam wasn't around, she might be able to beat some sense into Jacob. He was unprepared for the attack and had been crouching beside her chair. Bella easily tumbled him backwards. He kept hissing at her, "Stop it, Bella! Charlie's going to hear you!" but she was trying to pin him.

"What did he do to you?" She kept demanding as she struggled to gain control of one of his arms and bend the hand backwards toward the wrist. It was a mark of her utter insanity that she thought she could win this fight. Swiftly and silently, Jacob rolled her, freeing himself and springing backwards. Bella could still hear Charlie's loud snoring—Jacob hadn't made a sound during the tussle. Jacob looked ready to dive out the window again but stayed, his eyes on Bella, his breathing fast. She stared up at him from the floor, panting. At that moment an image flickered simultaneously in both their brains: Jacob rushed to her, taking her face into his hands and kissed her. This did not happen.

His wet skin was salacious, and he had become overtly sexual in his strength and bare skin. He wasn't her brother anymore, and he wasn't a boy. Bella's emotions were running the gamut with Jacob, she felt schizophrenic and unstable, exacerbated by lack of sleep.

"I didn't want to hurt you." He stammered, "I want to tell you the truth, I—" his voice cut out and his mouth stayed open, as though he were listening for something. Bella listened, too, but Charlie was still snoring. Jacob groaned and muttered, "I can't do it."

"You're killing me, Jacob," Bella said, not moving. This was the wrong thing to say. He advanced on her, hoisting her up by the elbows. Bella's heart rate quickened and she felt a mixture of anticipation, fear and nausea. She was three people: carnality, terror and pathos. Jacob was in her room, sucking up the air. Victoria was hunting her down, lingering in the shadows of night—maybe on her way right now. But her best friend was also trying to tell her something, and she might have only this chance left to fulfill her promise and break him free of Sam's power.

"Bella," he said feverishly, "I promised you that I wouldn't hurt you. I broke that promise this afternoon. This is me trying to fix it," Bella was very uncomfortable with the signals it was giving her teenage body. _Cut it out_! She told herself.

His eyes searched hers, and she felt like he was trying to communicate something to her. Bella's eyes fluttered from the strain of trying to keep eye contact, they were dry and red. She rubbed the yellow-cake out of them, groaning into her hands. She couldn't sort out her own emotions or thoughts, let alone Jacob's. The past week had been hell, and the past few hours had somehow been even worse. She felt her body sag.

"Bella? Are you okay? Are you going to faint?"

"No, I'm not going to faint!" she said peevishly, hating to be babied, "But no, I am not okay." She climbed onto her bed, choosing the corner furthest from him. She leaned against the headboard, pulling her knees up. She had to clear her head, figure out what she was going to do with this man-beast in her room. If only he would disappear for a minute—but his heat and eyes were bothering her too much.

Jacob sat on the edge of her bed and she groaned, not liking him so near. He was confusing her. Her brain kept playing out images familiar to her: the images associated with men who came in through her bedroom window. A whispering voice said, _Kiss him, break the spell_.

"Bella, have you ever had a secret that wasn't yours but you had to keep it anyway?"

He knew the answer to this, but Bella still couldn't admit to it. She didn't answer.

"I would tell you if it were my secret alone. I—" he struggled again, lost for words, his voice cutting itself short abruptly. He shook his head violently, "I can't even _be_ here!"

"Then why did you come?" she asked desperately. Jacob reached a hand out, holding her foot, the closest part of her. She was wearing socks, but she could still feel his unnatural heat. And she felt the old sensations triggered by touch, especially now in this setting. This wasn't the formal work of riot conditioning, nor was it the casual touch of two friends. He was in her bedroom in the middle of the night. And now he was shirtless. _Stop it stop it stop it_, she told herself.

"I made you a promise. I'm going to keep that promise, Bella."

"How can I keep my own promise?" she asked, struggling to push away the riotous urges rushing around her. "I promised you that I wouldn't let Sam take you away."

"You haven't failed me," he said gently. Bella's heart was racing faster than she wanted it to, her head was dizzy, she felt drunk. Jacob kept staring at her, unblinkingly, as though he could implant a thought into her head without words. But it wasn't working.

"I still don't understand," she sighed.

"That's the sick part, Bella, you already _know_!," he let go of her foot and stood, pacing angrily, muttering to himself, "You already know." The space allowed her to breathe again, her brain cleared more.

"What do I already know?" she asked, sitting up and crossing her legs.

"Do you remember when we first met?" he asked, his pacing stopped.

"As kids?"

"No, no, since you moved to Forks."

"Of course I remember that, Jacob," she said slowly. She could think when he wasn't fogging her up.

"Tell me about it," he urged her.

"You already know," she said, "but you want me to say something that you can't?" His eyes lit up.

"See? Bella! I knew we could do this, you're clever. And you already know! We can figure it out!" He rushed to the bed, sitting down closer to her now, taking one of her hands as though the touch might help her remember.

_Kiss him,_ her meek voice wheedled, _steal him back from Sam._

"Jacob, I can't think when you touch me," she said, embarrassed and flustered. He looked down at her hand in his and let go.

Sam had seen through Jacob immediately and had recognized what Bella was to him before the boy himself knew. Before he had been a boy, shy and unsure. Now, forced into traumatic manhood, Jacob was too keenly aware of his feelings for Bella. They were deeper than a crush, and every minute he spent with her thrust him further into hopeless love. This new Jacob, the one who was no longer blind, stood and gave Bella space to think.

"Why can't you talk to me?" She asked, looking at the pacing figure, "What has Sam done to you?" She was Bella again now, in control of herself. She was going to get Jacob back.

"I'm too tightly bound, I can't talk about it, I just _cannot_." Bella hated that image, but it was apt. Sam had tied up her Jacob, he had constrained him to the point where he was afraid to even speak in front of her. She began speaking quickly, trying to help Jacob free himself.

"The misfits were getting drunk, and neither of us were into that." She said, watching his face to see if she said the right thing. "You looked kind of new and awkward, so I decided to talk to you. We swapped some scary stories and walked on the beach—"

"There!" He said, "What were the—" his face contorted again and he slammed a fist on the bed to break out of the momentary seizure. It made Bella's side bobble and she stood up, putting the bed between them.

"The stories?" Bella offered. He nodded.

"They were the superstitions about the…the _cold ones_, and how the Quileute scape-goated the…Cullens." Why did he make her remember this? He was already hurting her with half-memories of Edward conflated with Jacob in her room. Anguish came to her and whatever calm she had managed to find disappeared. Now she felt only pain and confusion. There were too many people in the room: Bella, all the Jacobs, and Edward's ghost. She felt claustrophobic.

Jacob sighed angrily and wiped his face with one hand. He muttered, "I should have known that was all you would remember."

"I'm sorry," Bella apologized, "I'm so tired, Jacob. I'm not thinking straight."

He looked up at her, a new expression on his face.

"Did you really not know? Was I really the one who told you?" He asked, his voice low. Bella looked away, a terrible liar.

"I didn't know any of the stories you told me," she said.

"That Edward is a vampire?" He pressed. He watched Bella squeeze her eyes tight against tears, holding her breath through the pain of hearing a name she hated to utter.

"You're being ridiculous," Bella said through her teeth.

"See what I mean about loyalty?" Jacob gave a sad laugh, "I already know your secret and you still won't admit it to me. Somewhere, in your head, you already know mine. But I'm too…" he looked for the word.

"Restricted?" Bella suggested. Jacob nodded. They were across the room from each other, the twin bed keeping him away from her. Bella felt a flash of anger then, thinking about who was really to blame for the pain both she and Jacob felt.

"Sam isn't worth your loyalty, Jacob. You're better than him."

"You don't know him," Jacob said sadly, "You'd like him if you did."

An idea struck Bella, and she was talking before she could process it,

"We could run away together! If I got you away from him long enough—"

"I can't go anywhere, Bella." Jacob interrupted her, "I can't run from this. But if I could, I would. I would have gone with you in an instant."

"But Sam won't let you," She finished his sentence. "There has to be some way to get you free," she whispered, frustrated tears stinging her weak eyes.

"It's a life sentence," he smiled with his new face, his new smile that didn't crinkle his eyes or plump up his cheeks, "maybe even longer." She hated to see that grimace on his face. What she had loved most about Jacob was his newness, his sweetness. Under Sam he had become embittered and controlled, he had seen something horrible and it had forced him to change entirely.

He looked nervous then. "Bella, I have to go."

"Back to them?" She asked, involuntarily stepping forward to stop him.

"Yes. But it's also dangerous for me to be here." Bella was startled, did he know about Victoria? He knew about the other vampires, maybe he knew about them all. She was torn, knowing that it was unsafe to keep Jacob around her, but wanting to keep him away from Sam.

"They won't like that I've come to see you." Jacob continued, unaware of Bella's thoughts.

"Then don't tell them!" She whispered.

"They'll know. That's just how it is," he said. This hurt Bella, seeing Jacob helpless and manipulated. She balled up a fist and forced herself to keep her voice down.

"Damn you, Sam!" She said angrily, her voice breaking from tears. Jacob moved towards her, taking her hands.

"Don't," he said, "don't get so upset over me. You're hurting yourself."

"Look what they've done to you! How can I not be upset?" Her brown eyes were red-rimmed, matching Jacob's. They had both been through too much this week.

"Get some rest, Bella. You can figure this out. Call me when you do…if you…still want to see me." His face shifted, the features falling, collapsing.

"Of course I want to see you! Jacob, you're my _best_ friend!"

"You might not always think that," he warned. Bella grabbed the sides of his face, the bones dense and smooth like a pit bull. It was a face that was marred by expressions he had learned elsewhere—resignation and self-hatred.

"Jake!" She said, making him look at her, "You are my friend. End of story."

She felt his arms enclose around her and she didn't have time to think, to stop him, but then he was hugging her. It was a hard hug, and though she couldn't breathe, she was so grateful it wasn't a kiss. What would she do if he kissed her? Her body knew exactly what it wanted to do.

Then she really felt his warmth, the kind that reached her insides, and she hugged him back, holding on in case he would try and leave her again. She remembered the empty nights in Phoenix while Renee was out with Phil and she had thought she would die from loneliness. This was the sort of embrace she had dreamed of, something searing and smothering. She couldn't let him go back to Sam again. She dug her fingers into his skin, determined.

"Call me," he whispered, "even if it's to say you never want to see me again."

"You're the one who was trying to push _me_ away earlier," Bella cried, feeling the tears break free again. She should stop drinking water, she thought, it only came out her eyes nowadays. "I'm your friend, so stop trying to break up with me, okay?"

Jacob leaned back, looking Bella in the face again. He saw so many Bellas. There was the pudgy girl of his childhood, the rumpled figure left to die in the woods, the concentrated runner, and now this Bella. This Bella framed in articulated, maddening reality.

"I'll try to come and see you again. They'll try and talk me out of it."

"Don't listen to them. They're not good for you, Jake."

"I've got to go," he said, easily breaking her grip on his arms. She couldn't hold onto him, she couldn't keep him.

He turned towards the window.

"For God's sake! Use the front door!" She hissed, "Are you trying to kill yourself? Charlie won't wake up."

Jacob turned around to look at Bella again. He watched her, thinking, and then with a graceful movement he stepped forward and pulled her into another hug, sinking his fingers into the mess of her bed hair. He whispered quickly into her ear,

"Figure this out, Bella. Even if you don't choose me, you need to know the truth."

The heat of his body was alarming, and this embrace was different than the first; she felt too close to Jacob, as though the barrier of his skin had disappeared. His breath was warm and wet against her ear, and she could feel him lingering. She pushed her forehead against his, her body slipping into a unilateral objective and her fingers moved to snake into his hair but only found empty space. Then he pushed away and turned to the window, pausing only to make sure she was watching. Before she could tell him to use the door, he vaulted through the window. She rushed forward, in time to see him catch his weight in a soft and solid landing on the wet ground. Then he jogged off, into the darkness.

Had Jacob always been that strong and agile? Had he just hidden it from her? It was nearly a twenty foot drop to the ground, and he just jogged off afterward. She felt insects crawling inside her stomach, boring holes into her core—the embrace had been desperate, wild, and easy. It was so easy, she knew exactly what she was going to do, her mind deferred to her body and she could tell now that it wasn't one-sided. Jacob's body, unlike Edward's, gave away his desires. She had been prepared to give him anything to make him stay, and the stark intimacy of their embrace told Bella that Jacob would have accepted her, wanted her. Yet Sam was still stronger than all that.


	13. Jacob the Killer

_**Author's Note:** You guys are the SQUEE-EST! That is, my little phone alerts me whenever I get a new review and I'm pretty much squeeing up the house. This book is part of the whole 4-book series, and I have long-term, overarching ideas. Thank you to **Smeellie**, **2meggles1**, and **Shamrock1787** for adding RWW to their C2s (The Newborns , Awesome Favourites, and Bella the Badass, respectively) Check them out! They obviously have unquestionably good taste. And thanks to the dedicated reviewers (**Silvaren**, **LynetteCullen**, **CatScreamsBloodyMurder**) for giving me so much squee._

_Now about the story. Bella is going to be fighting for her man and sometimes punching, kicking or slapping her man. Whaddya think about this? Is it a glorification of domestic abuse or is it "okay" because these guys are impermeable monster-dude? Most of the time Bella's the only one who gets hurt. Should I add in **more fight scenes** to ante up the action or** more romance** to burst some pants? Let me know in the reviews!_

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><p>Her first priority was to get Jacob free of Sam. She could sort out their romantic entanglement later, right now Jacob needed help unbinding himself. She felt angry heat wash her body again, but it ran out quickly, replacing itself with sheer exhaustion. She felt her efforts collapse, her legs give way. She crawled into bed, barely able to get under the covers before she lost consciousness.<p>

The dream was scattered and new, a patchwork of memories and nightmare. She had felt Jacob's heat before, seen a similar image of broad, naked shoulders and cropped black hair: Sam. When he had carried her out of the woods, he had been shirtless. His heat had been feverish like Jacob's. There was a snuffling sound, the flash of bright eyes in the dark. Then she was in the meadow again, seeing the wolf-monster for the first time, watching as the other four emerged in different colors. The reddish one caught her eyes—its own eyes were searching. As she looked, the wolf yelped and shrank, turning back into the long-haired boy she met on the cold, pebble beach.

_The wolves are our brothers_, Jacob had laughed, but he had some pride in the sound of it. Even in the dream, Bella felt sadness watching the ease of his smile and the roundness of his chin as he pulled soft cheeks into a boyish grin. _Descended from wolves_. Then young Jacob's eyes went blank and an alien voice rattled from his throat,

"Run, Bella!" She stood, but she was still the girl on the beach, clumsy and obese. She backed away, stumbling, and saw the black beast-wolf running toward Jacob from further down the beach.

"Jacob!" She yelled, but his eyes were vacant. She fell, frozen and helpless, and watched as the wolf descended on Jacob, opening its mouth and snarling. As the teeth sank into Jacob's broad, young shoulder, Bella fell out of bed with a hard thunk.

She had been asleep for only a few hours but it felt like seconds. Her head hurt from the fall and she curled into a ball. The pain stalled the realization, but when it came she opened her eyes wide and gasped into her fist as the puzzle pulled itself together. It was her fault somehow. Edward had already been different, he had been a monster for nearly a century before she showed up; but what were the chances that her only friend outside of a vampire would turn into a monster, too? She was the only common thread. Something was wrong with her.

Jacob was a wolf. A man-wolf. A werewolf. He and Sam and those other naked boys were the wolves she had seen in the meadow. The Quileute legend about the cold ones was all true. Laurent hadn't killed them—unless there had been more boys she didn't know about. She couldn't sit with this information, she had to blurt it out—to Jacob. She quickly changed into whatever clothes she could find, cinching her belt to keep her jeans up. Her boots were still soaked from the previous night, but her toe-shoes were in the truck.

Bella flew down the stairs so fast that she barely caught herself before running into Charlie—he was up early for work. He saw Bella's wild hair and sleepless eyes.

"Bells, what are you doing?"

"I have to talk to Jacob, I think I know what's wrong."

"It's too early," he said.

"We used to run at dawn, he'll be up," Bella insisted.

"You're barefoot," he noticed.

"My shoes are in the car. I got to go, Dad!" She nearly shoved past him but Charlie was in cop-mode. He held up a hand.

"I'll get your shoes. Put on a warm jacket and get some breakfast first."

Bella changed into a warmer jacket but skipped breakfast. It was too early, she didn't have time, and her stomach was knotting itself up. When Charlie came back she asked,

"Where are you going, anyway?" as she put on her shoes. None of the shifts began at this time.

"There's been another killed hiker, well out of our jurisdiction but they want my help anyway. Those wolves you saw were spotted just after the guy went missing, but the body hasn't been recovered. Just some blood. Just like the rest."

"What?" Bella had forgotten about the deaths. This changed things entirely. "What are you going to do?" She asked desperately.

"We have to hunt them down. They're killing the people who go into those mountains." She saw that Charlie had propped his rifle by the door with an orange safety jacket. Bright orange, firing shots—Victoria would find him easily. Even if Victoria didn't kill Charlie, the wolves might—or Charlie would succeed and kill Jacob. There was no way this situation would end well.

"You can't go! It's too dangerous!" She cried.

"It's my job, Bells. If we don't get this cleaned up fast, people will try to hunt them on their own; then we'll have high-strung yokels shooting at anything they see in the wood. I can't let it get that far. Don't worry, I'll be safe."

"No! Those wolves were too big!"

"Bella. Stay home and calm down, you're a mess. I'll be fine. I'll call in when I can, okay?" There was no way she could make him stay. All the men in Bella's life had a way of leaving her. She let him go, watching as he took his gun and an extra box of ammunition. She had to warn Jacob—but, she remembered, Jacob was killing hikers. He had said she wouldn't want to see him again once she knew the truth. He knew she wouldn't want to—that's why his last embrace was so final. That's what had aged him.

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><p>Bella got into her truck anyway. She still had to warn him, even if she never saw him again, she had to give him a fair shot. As she drove the trip to LaPush, the inevitable juxtaposition came into her mind: the Cullens were monsters, Edward, Rosalie, Emmet, Jasper—they had all killed before. But they chose to change, they sought redemption. It was almost impossible for them to resist their instincts, but they succeeded. Nothing could be harder than what they put themselves through in order to soothe their conscience.<p>

She wouldn't be able to forgive Jacob for being a killer. It didn't matter what his instincts were—if the Cullens could fight it, so could he. This would be the last time she would see Jacob, she would have to let him go. Sam had turned him into a killer, a real monster.

She arrived at Jacob's house faster than she anticipated, her thoughts carrying her the whole way. She knocked on the door and after a few beats heard Billy's voice shout, "It's open!"

The house was dark, which made it look all the smaller. She saw Billy poke his head from his bedroom, dressed in a robe and sitting on the edge of his bed, not in his chair yet.

"Bella?" He asked in surprise, an angry expression taking over his face.

"I have to talk to Jake," she said, heading towards the small bedroom adjacent to Billy's.

"He isn't in," Billy protested, but Bella was already opening the worn door to Jacob's tiny room. She barely got the door open, piles of clothes and debris littered the floor. His bed took up more than half the room, and no matter how he positioned himself, Jacob couldn't fit on that little mattress. He lay flat on his stomach, dead to the world, his arms and legs dangling. Asleep, she could see the Jacob he had been before Sam taught him to kill people.

Her anger, resentment and hurt were replaced by pity. He was in the clothes she had seen him in earlier, his feet were filthy. Tacked above his bed were the postcards she had sent him. She moved forward and shook his shoulder,

"Jake," she said gently, but there wasn't even a flicker of a response. The heat of his skin bothered her and she didn't feel up to the task of waking him up, especially if it meant touching him again. Billy was in his chair now, and he had rolled into the boxed-in hallway.

"I'll tell him you came by when he wakes up," he said with finality.

"Do you know what the police are doing today?" Bella said angrily, whirling on Billy. "They're hunting the wolves down because of those dead hikers. They're going to shoot them all."

Billy's eyes absorbed this with some surprise, quickly replaced with his stoic serenity. He wheeled back into the doorway to his bedroom, giving Bella room to leave. She felt enormous in their tiny house, and Jake was six inches taller than her, his shoulders more broad. How had he fit in here?

"I'll be at first beach," she said, "I'll be waiting for Jake." She stalked past Billy and left. At the beach she found a bleached, dead tree, petrified by the salts and elements. She sat on it, facing the wind and letting her hair down. The ocean was black, the sun struggling to rise. She knew that she was inviting Victoria by going out before daylight, but she was too distressed to care anymore.

Everyone she loved was a monster, everyone had tasted blood, had taken lives. How did she enter into this? She had felt like fate had drawn her life into Edward's, that she was the key to his redemption somehow. But that had gone horribly wrong. Now she was a disease, ruining normal, regular boys like Jacob. She was trying to remember why he blamed the Cullens for his curse when she heard Jacob's voice behind her.

"Bella," he said in relief. But when she turned to face him she couldn't hide the anger and disappointment in her eyes. His smile dropped.

"You should have just called, then," he said. Bella had had a craven impulse to do just that, but regardless of his current situation, Jacob deserved better than a pithy phone call.

"Werewolves," she said evenly, "So the Quileute myths are true." Jacob was surprised by her flat tone, but his voice was biting,

"I knew you'd figure it out. You're clever. But why did you show up? You obviously don't want to still be my friend."

"I came to warn you," she said, still sitting. She wouldn't stand, she didn't trust her legs. Jacob squatted into a crouch, bringing his eye level closer to hers. Weird, gray light and the shushing of the ocean accompanied this new vision of Jacob. This was him now, not the boy who had laughed with her over motorcycle parts.

"Charlie and the police are hunting down the wolves. Another hiker was killed. They're coming after you with guns."

Jacob laughed, a sneer marring his face. "Like that would work," he muttered. Bella's eyes flashed with anger. Was he threatening them? Was he threatening _her father_? She snapped.

"Jacob, how _could you_!"

"It's not exactly my _choice_, Bella," he shot back nastily.

"It doesn't matter what you are, what matters is what you do! Sam taught you to just _give in_? There has to be a way to fight this, Jake, look harder."

"There is no other way," he said, snarling and looking away. He was angry that Bella would assume he was weak, or that he had chosen this path.

"Billy is brainwashed enough to not care about what you do, but you are better than that, Jake. All those dead hikers—four? Five?"

"Six," he said, straightening and pacing angrily. She stood up too, in order to keep him in her line of sight. She saw him clenching and unclenching his fist. Edward's voice returned, smooth and calm.

"Don't press him. Don't get him angry," he warned.

"How many of them did _you_ kill?" She asked softly, feeling the wet, hot pain in the back of her throat—the kind that Jacob brought out of her. It choked her, cutting off her breathing. He turned on her.

"The hikers?" he asked.

"Was it all just Sam and his disciples? Or is it part of initiation?" She spat the words, her stomach twisted in emptiness and hurt.

"You hate me because of the _hikers_? Really?" He gave a surprised laugh that only made Bella angrier. She stood.

"I hate you because you don't _care_ that you are killing people!"

A crazy grin came to Jacob's face, and for a moment Bella was legitimately afraid of him. "You don't care that I'm a shape-shifter?" he said, cocking his head and walking toward her.

Bella stepped backwards, her voice unsteady, "I don't care what you are, Jake. That doesn't matter. I told you, it's what you _do_ that matters. You can't blame your nature on this." She flinched back, turning to run at the last second as she saw Jacob pounce on her. He gathered her into his arms, and she squirmed, fighting.

"Oh, Bella!" He shouted in joy, but she scraped her heel down his shinbone and butt the hard part of her head against his nose, struggling to break free. He released her,

"Ow!" he said. She started to run on the beach, but she wasn't used to the shifting ground of the sand and she kept stumbling.

Jacob caught up to her easily, he was yelling, "Wait! Bella, wait!" and she screamed, "No!" as she shifted direction. She changed speeds so fast that she did a baseball-slide, landing on her hip and side. Jacob came towards her and she kicked out at his ankle, trying to get back to her feet against the sinking immobility of the beach. Jacob jumped easily out of the way and yelled,

"Wait! Bella! I'm not a killer! We don't kill people! We didn't kill those hikers!" Bella was panting and almost didn't hear him over the blood rushing around her head. She looked up at him and knew he was telling the truth. She collapsed against the ground, breathing hard. Jacob sat beside her, falling back against the ground. The sounds of the tide mixed with the ringing in her ears and she tried to speak,

"You didn't kill the hikers?"

"No," he panted, laughing, "of course not. Don't you remember the story? Why do the Quileutes shift?"

"To protect people," she remembered, "from…!" She sat up, the adrenaline returning to a fast boil.

"Jake, we have to go! He's still out there! _He's_ been killing the hikers!"

"What? Who?" He asked, putting a hand on Bella's shoulder to keep her from running off again.

"Laurent!" She screamed, her eyes wild.

"The black one?" he asked. It was strange to hear that memory come from him, the memory she shared with the wolves. Bella nodded, gasping.

"We got him, Bella. He wasn't…a friend, right?"

"What? You killed Laurent?" Her eyes bulged. Edward had said time and again how difficult it was to kill vampires—it had made his own romanticized suicide that much harder. It was the only reason Carlisle had survived. Only other vampires could kill them.

"He was going to bite you," Jacob back-pedaled.

"Are you sure he's dead?" She asked, her voice barely audible.

"Yes, Bella. That's what we're _made_ for," he said.

A grateful smile broke across Bella's face and she burst into tears. If he had died back in the meadow, he couldn't have possibly told Victoria that the Cullens were gone. She was safe. She was safe.

Bella sobbed and wept, choking on the word, "Oh thank God! Oh thank God!"

"Are you okay?" Jacob asked, still not understanding. Bella saw him now for the first time. Jacob, the red wolf, had helped take down Laurent. He had saved her all those weeks ago. He's been protecting her, even when he wouldn't let her near him. She dove at him, hugging him fiercely and crying.

"Jacob! Thank you! Oh my God! I thought he was still after me! Every single night, I thought—Thank you! Thank you!"

"Bella, it's okay. You're safe." He held her as she cried, breathing her in.

When her sobbing slowed and she sounded more controlled he added,

"We're taking care of the situation." He patted her back lightly. She pulled back suddenly.

"Wait, who is still killing the hikers, then?"

"His mate. A red-headed vampire, but we can't seem to draw her out. She keeps dodging around our lines and we have to push her back, but she never takes us on directly. We thought she'd be angrier about us killing her mate, but she looks like she just wants to get past us to something else."

But Bella wasn't listening anymore. Jacob saw the horror on her face right before her eyes rolled into the back of her head. She woke up with a splash of ocean-water to her face.

"Bella! Bella what is it?"

"Victoria's here?" she muttered, whimpering, "Victoria knows?" Victoria: keeping Bella alive long enough to watch her own dismemberment. Victoria: peeling away Bella's skin with the knife of her nails. Victoria: holding Charlie like a struggling fish and twisting his head off with a giggle. The nightmares flooded Bella's senses.

"What are you talking about?" He demanded. He was on his knees beside her, his face over hers. Bella rolled to her side, coughing and choking. There were black spots in her vision. She was hungry, dehydrated, exhausted.

"Victoria wasn't Laurent's mate," she panted between breaths, "He was a scout for her. She's looking for me. She wants to torture and kill me," Bella began to weep gently now, her energy gone. She was so tired.

"Why does she want you?" Jacob asked, concerned and confused.

"He…Edw—" she shuddered with another hacking cough,

"Edward?" Jacob offered the name, Bella couldn't bear to say it. She nodded,

"He killed Victoria's mate last year, James. James was using me to draw his family into a battle, but…_Edward_," she whispered the name, her scar burning, her head aching, her body empty, "killed him. Victoria doesn't know that I'm not… she doesn't know that the situation has changed. She wants a mate for a mate."

"You're their pawn?" Jacob said angrily. "And they _left you_ behind? While _she_ was still out there?" He was beginning to tremble, but Bella's voice came weakly,

"Stop, Jake. I can't take it." He immediately calmed down and put an arm under Bella's shoulders.

"Can you get up?" He asked. She didn't want to. She was nearly dead anyway, only stupid luck had kept her alive this long. But she got her feet under her body, leaning on Jacob for support. She hadn't been eating much while he was gone, and she'd been sleeping even less. She was fading away. He helped her back to the truck and turned on the heat.

"I'll be right back," he said and ran away. He left her alone.

Bella locked all the doors and windows, lying along the seat of the cab, hiding. She shivered and shuddered. Then she remembered Charlie—she checked her cell phone: a missed call and a brief text message, _Still here_, it read. She sighed and sent a message back. Her few friends and alienation meant she rarely used her cell phone, and her quivering fingers made the little message take too long to write. _Thank you_, she sent back.

Jacob knocked on the window and she unlocked the door for him, feeling a little better knowing that Charlie was alive.

"Where did you go?" she asked, sliding into the passenger's side of the cab and putting her fingers out to warm against the air vents. Jacob took her hands in his, instantly warming them. She let him.

"Um… there's a lot you don't know about wolves. For one, we have a kind of telepathy. When I'm a wolf, I can talk to the others, no matter where I am. I was telling them to meet me somewhere so I could give them information about the vampires. I tried not to think of you."

Bella took her hands back, warm enough. "Oh," was all she said. "Where are we going?"

"Bella are you in shock?" Jacob asked, looking at her. "I just told you I'm a telepathic werewolf,"

She stared back at him, deciding whether or not to give in. "It's not really news to me," she said, "I'm used to other people reading minds."

"The vampires?" Jacob's eyes widened.

"Just him," Bella whispered, unable to say the name, "Except for me. He could never read my mind."

"I don't believe it," he laughed, "all the legends are true. We thought that was another myth, that some of them have extra powers." He shook his head then, suddenly serious, "What about Victoria?" he asked her.

"I don't think she has anything special," Bella said softly, hating to be brought back to the vampire memories.

"He couldn't read your mind?" Jacob asked then, confused.

"Jake, there's an insane vampire out to kill me and my dad is wandering in the woods right now. This isn't the time for that."

Jacob nodded, shifting the engine and starting to drive, "Right," he said.

"We're going to the place where we tested our bikes," he said, "I'll get them to listen. We can protect you and Charlie, and now that we know what the vamp wants, we can trap her and kill her off."

"But they hate me right now?" Bella guessed, her voice still empty.

"There are only two sides to this fight, Bella. You made it clear what side you were on. But this changes some things. Also, we weren't sure if Laurent was your friend or not, and we aren't technically allowed to kill a vampire on Cullen land until he bites someone. I wouldn't let it get that far."

"The treaty?" Bella remembered, "It's still valid? But the Cullens are gone,"

"They always come back," he said gently, "just not during the same generation." There had been a freak light of hope in Bella's heart, and Jacob had extinguished it quickly. Edward was still gone, but with the war between Victoria and the werewolves his absence was all the more apparent.

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><p><em><strong>Author's Post Script: <strong>I'm really digging **AmandaForks**' story Bella's Guitar. For one thing, I am a big fan of Charlie and his mustache. For another, I like my Billy with a bit of scary on the side. She really hits those points for me and manages to juggle a Jacob who is both alluring and disappointingly immature at times. The back story she gives Charlie and Billy feels so good that I forget it isn't canon!_


	14. Wolf Girl

_**Author's pre-Note:** Sorry to the ten of you who already read this, but I decided to change the chapter title. I'm whimsical like that!_

_**Author's Note: **Gonna go out on a limb and say this is one of my favorite chapters. My favey-fave is still to come and I'll warn yins about it. Hint to bakers: if you want to make really good blueberry-lemon muffins (1) coat the blueberries in flour to stop them from bleeding, (2) use lemon peel as well as fresh-never bottled!-lemon juice (3) invest in some turbinado sugar for the crunchy-sweet topping and (4) have Sam Uley kiss the hell outta you._

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><p>"How did you kill Laurent?" She asked as they drove.<p>

"I don't count vampires as people, for the record," Jacob said, "so I still think I'm not a killer. And he was going to bite you," Bella nodded, not agreeing with his distaste for vampires but forgiving him for killing Laurent.

"We can tear them apart. They're solid, but we're strong. We are their only enemies, but they are also ours. It wasn't really fair on Laurent, though, five-to-one."

"Screw fairness," Bella said flatly. She was glad Laurent was dead. "Why haven't you killed Victoria yet?" She asked.

"She's more difficult. She dances around, we can't ever get her cornered."

This was not what Bella wanted to hear. Jacob took her hand in his between shifting the gears.

"It's okay, Bella," he said, "we can protect you." He had to let go to downshift and Bella let her hand drop. She dozed off for the last few minutes of the trip.

Then Jacob gently shook her shoulder, they had arrived.

Jacob got out of the truck and she followed through the driver's side, hiding behind him. He was facing a tree line fifty-feet off, and four half-naked boys stepped out. They were the only thing keeping Bella alive right now: teenage werewolves playing hero in the woods. All her hope disappeared.

"Jacob, what have you done?" Sam demanded, seeing Bella immediately.

"She has information for us!" Jacob shouted across the distance, putting a protective arm out for Bella. One of the younger boys, Bella couldn't recognize him from the distance, screamed,

"Traitor! She's one of _them_!"

"Calm down, Paul!" Sam commanded, but the one called Paul was hurling insults at Jacob. Jacob drew Bella closer, blocking her from their sight, but this only made Paul angrier.

"Look at you protecting her! _Her_!"

"Paul!" Sam yelled in his baritone, but Paul was convulsing—he was having a seizure. When he fell to the ground there was a sick tearing sound, his skin broke apart and fur—too much fur to be contained in that body—burst forth. The tearing turning into a growling, and the grey wolf started to run across the distance, towards Jacob. Jake ran head on and Bella cried out,

"Jake! No!" But he took a strong jump, leaping into the air. Bella's eyes were glued to Jacob, and she saw every millisecond of his transformation. His clothing ripped, his body tore itself up, and without even a shudder he was the copper wolf. He landed, bounding towards the grey wolf. From thirty feet back, Bella could still hear the snapping and growling as they battled for the other's throat. Jacob-wolf was pushing Paul-wolf with his shoulder towards the woods, a snarl and the click of teeth echoing towards Bella.

As the wolves disappeared, rolling and kicking, into the wood, Bella ran forward. Her feet carried her and found solid purchase,

"Jacob!" She cried after him. The other three wolf boys ran down to stop her. Sam called out to her, "Stop, Bella. I'll take care of this." He slipped out of his shoes and jogged off into the woods. The two boys left were laughing and taking bets on who would win. Bella was still running, and she shifted direction, aiming for the boys. She thudded with her shoulder into one of the boys, knocking him off balance.

"He'll kill him!" She screamed falling upon him and bringing her fists down on his face. He warded off her blows and quickly flipped her,

"Bella, stop!" he shouted, "Jake will be fine and you'll only piss me off!"

"Calm down, Embry!" the other one shouted, trying to pull Bella off him. But Embry did a quick roll, flipping Bella over and pinning her. His eyes glinted cruelly,

"Got you now, little girl," he whispered. But Bella had her legs in a better position. She bucked Embry off her, flipping him over and chopping the side of her hand to his throat. He coughed and sputtered, shaking and trembling. She jumped off him and spun on the other boy.

"You're laughing while he's out there! He's going to get hurt!"

"Stop!" came Sam's voice from the edge of the woods. He had found extra clothes somewhere and draped them over his arm. The three of them turned to look at him. He was tall and his face was square with a broad mouth and commanding jaw. Bella could see his commanding pose even from where she stood.

"Bring her to Emily's and stop fighting. Don't hurt the girl."

Embry spit, swearing. The other one helped him up and they eyed her angrily. The two boys grumbled, picking up the tattered bits of Jacob's clothes and some weird white exploded thing. Bella realized it was a sneaker. They were cleaning up the evidence. Then the three of them walked back to the truck. Bella thought of trying to escape, but she had to see if Jacob would be okay.

* * *

><p>The other boy got into the drivers' side and mentioned that his name was Jared. Embry was wedged in the middle. When his voice came back he croaked,<p>

"Jacob's been training you."

"You bet he has," She warned dangerously.

Jared laughed, "She had you, Embry."

"Shut up, Jake doesn't know anything. She got lucky."

"Jake's gonna take a piece out of Paul. Did you see him phase? He was in the air! Bam! Faster than even Sam."

The two boys were back on their bet. Bella kept her eyes on them in case they tried anything. She was prepared to jump out of the truck if she had to, but they seemed to be ignoring her now. It was still early daylight, she might be able to run somewhere and hitch a ride home well before nightfall. Bella didn't realize she had fallen asleep again until the truck hit a new texture of road. They turned down a dirt driveway that Bella didn't recognize. Bella cursed herself for falling asleep, now she didn't know where she was.

There was a handmade cottage at the end of the road, paint peeling, steps sloping and in need of repair. The window boxes were full of bright flowers, though, and the front door was new with red paint.

"This is Emily's place. She's Sam's girl. Don't stare, it pisses Sam off," Embry muttered to Bella as they walked towards the house. Embry had been so shy before. She had wrestled with him, but he had always apologized while wrestling, afraid to hurt her. Now he was arrogant and distant, like the others.

She could smell hot sugar and hear humming from the inside. It reminded her of a witch's gingerbread house. When she saw the pretty girl cooking in the kitchen nook, she couldn't help but stare in jealousy. She was thin and brown, with long, straight, raven hair. She was smiling and humming, greeting the boys in a friendly, sweet voice. She wore cute clothes and moved with grace that reminded Bella that she was dirty and wild. She unzipped her jacket in the warmth of the day and looked for a place to sit down. The boys had staked out the kitchen table where there was a cracked pitcher holding wildflowers.

Emily popped warm, over-sized muffins onto a plate and brought out a gallon of milk.

"You brought a girl?" She asked, her face turning towards Bella. It was then that Bella saw her whole face—the bad side had been turned away from her. There was a horrible set of three scars, dragging down through the muscles, pulling at her eyelid and snarling her lip. Bella felt self-conscious about the scar on her arm, wrist warmers covering it in lieu of a long-sleeved shirt. She brought her eyes to the muffins, smelling the bright flavor of lemon and blueberry. She was ravenous.

"She's with Jacob. It's the vampire girl," Embry mouthed around a chunk of muffin.

Bella reached tentatively for a glass to pour herself some milk.

"So you're the vampire girl. Muffin?" Emily's voice was flat and unfriendly, but she held out a muffin anyway. Bella took it, sitting down with the boys.

"I'm nobody's," Bella said, "Thanks for the muffin."

"Jake's been conditioning her, she chopped Embry in the throat and flipped him!" Jared laughed, reaching for a third muffin. Emily smacked a spoon on his wrist,

"Save for your brothers." Bella noticed that the boys didn't react to the word. Bella stared at Embry. She hadn't even recognized him, but the more she looked, the more she could tell that this had once been the skinny, tall boy who had shyly met her months earlier. Emily sat across from Bella, choosing the smallest muffin and nibbling at the edges. Bella sank her teeth eagerly into the warmth, feeling the burst of the berries in her mouth. She gulped down milk before slowing herself down.

"You look more like a wolf girl than me," Emily noted. "Where are those boys anyway?"

"Paul lost his temper." Jared rolled his eyes.

"If we had a dollar for every time that happened we could afford shoes for Jake," Emily's laugh was a cascade of confection. Bella had seen another exploded sneaker on the porch: it had been filled with dirt and was sprouting a curled frond.

Despite her hostility towards her, Bella was charmed by Emily's sweetness. She watched her rise to return to the kitchen, leaving most of her muffin untouched. Bella and the two werewolves eyed it hungrily.

"I'm not a wolf girl," Bella said abruptly. "And I'm not a vampire girl. I'm not Jake's girl either, I'm _Bella_." She pronounced both Ls.

"Touchy." Embry noted. Bella concentrated on savoring her muffin, she wanted a second one, but she didn't belong in this house. She shouldn't be eating their food at all. She would kill for a cup of coffee.

"So how did you get Jacob to break the injunction?" Embry eyed her suspiciously.

"The what?" She asked.

"Sam ordered him not to tell you about us."

"Oh," she swallowed, "I guessed it." The boys nodded in appreciation, tipping their chairs backward.

"Yeah, that would work," Embry mused. He muttered a phrase in Quileute that Bella had heard before.

"What does that mean?" She asked, fixing him with a stare. "I've heard Billy say something like that before."

"He used to say it about his daughters," Embry shrugged, reluctant to let Bella in on the joke. Jared offered the translation,

"_There's no trusting a clever girl_," he said. He was small and Bella couldn't concentrate on his features. He looked too much like another little Sam.

"Jacob is always breaking the rules. It's going to come to a head one of these days," Embry grunted.

"Not around the girl," Emily said from the kitchen.

"Bella," Bella insisted. She didn't want to just be a piece in their plot. Embry was smirking and suddenly she wanted to wipe away his grin.

"When's the last time you hung out with Quil?" She asked. The two of them had seemed like brothers when she had first met them. Embry's face fell. He went from the ubiquitous, muscular wolf-boy back to the tall kid with short hair she had first met.

"Months," he admitted, "but he'll probably be with us soon." The two boys didn't seem buoyed by this information. Despite their roughhousing and jokes, they didn't want to wish this life on Embry.

Unwilling to risk another muffin, and too tired to keep up conversation, Bella rested her arms on the table and then her head on her arms. The mutter of the boys' voices and Emily's occasional chirping lulled her into an immediate sleep. Then there was the wind-chime of Emily's laughter and Bella woke up, raising her head and staring with bleary eyes.

* * *

><p>Sam entered the kitchen, taking Emily and sweeping her into an embrace. He muttered things in Quileute, then he brought his lips to the marred half of her face, eventually finding his way to her lips. He kissed her like an old-fashioned movie star, draping her body over his arm. Bella looked away, her ragged emptiness swallowing her again. She saw Paul lope in through the door and grab a muffin. He looked at Bella,<p>

"Sorry about earlier," he grinned. Jared pointed to his arm, "What's that? A scratch! Ha! Ten bucks, Embry."

"You know I don't have my wallet on me," Embry grumbled, looking at the rapidly disappearing scratch along Paul' forearm. Bella looked hopefully towards the door and saw Jacob leaning against it, wearing a brand new uniform and watching her. She stood and grabbed him two muffins.

"Are you okay?" She asked, handing them off. He nodded then he called out to Emily,

"I'm going to walk with Bella, can we take the last of the muffins?"

She sang out sweetly in the affirmative, holding aloft an industrial-sized mixing bowl full of eggs: the boys would feast on those. Jacob slipped past Bella and grabbed the last two muffins, then he touched the small of her back, leading her out the door again.

"Three for me, one for you," he offered. He was wearing new clothes now. She took the muffin and started down the steps.

"Wait, you're bleeding," he said, looking at her leg. She must have cut herself on a rock while wrestling with Embry. "Oh," she said, rolling up her jeans to see the cut. It wasn't bad, but it was smeared. Jacob ran back in and got a wet cloth and some antiseptic spray. Bella let him clean up her wound, her head pounding from caffeine withdrawals. She didn't care that he saw how hairy her legs were—if it made him less attracted to her, that was for the better.

It bothered her to see him so easy with blood. She breathed in the warm scent of the muffin and kept her eyes off the wound.

"Good as new!" Jacob grinned, standing again. He was free again, but he still wasn't quite right.

"What happened with Paul?" She asked as they began walking again. He had already eaten one muffin and was working through his second in less than three bites.

"He phases a lot, that's what we call the transformation. He can't be around people until he gets it under control, but the loneliness just makes it worse. He saw what was in my head, though, so he knows the truth and he agrees with me. Sam saw, too. They're explaining it now, when we get back they'll have a plan for protecting you and your dad.

"I heard you choked Embry?" He smiled.

"I thought Paul was trying to kill you. You were at each other's throats, and he just laughed about it."

"You're lucky Sam was there," his smile disappeared, "you saw Emily. We're protectors, but we're still not safe for people. I'm dangerous for you, Bella."

"Only if you lose your temper," she said. She didn't want to have a rehash of the I-love-you-but-I'm-dangerous-for-you conversation. "I've never seen you lose your temper before, why should it be different now? The boys were saying you have the fastest phase, too."

"I'm a prodigy," he said with derision. "Bella, are you sure—"

"Jacob!" She cut him off, "I'm a grown woman. I've been with vampires, I've seen Emily, I know the consequences. I'm making a decision, okay? Can you just trust me to make my own choices?"

"Sure," he said apologetically. "I won't hurt you, but when I see Sam and Emily, I remember that Sam never would have hurt her either—until he did."

"Let's change the subject," Bella said, "What happened to Paul's arm?"

"Oh, right, the wolf stuff. We heal faster, which is good because we are also running a constant fever of about one-oh-eight. Can't really go to the doctor when you're running that hot." He looked up, trying to remember more information that would be helpful to Bella,

"The moon has no effect on our phasing, we change when we are angry—like Sam. He got into a fight with Emily when he was just starting out with this, and he phased too fast."

This wasn't making Bella like Sam any better. Jacob caught her expression. He pointed to a boulder and Bella sat down.

"Sam's not as bad as you think. It isn't a gang, it's a pack, and it's more like rehabilitation than anything else. When I first changed…it was…" his eyes were vacant and he shuddered. At first Bella thought he was going to change again and she put out her hand to stop him. But Jacob shook his head.

"Your body has to learn to break itself apart," he said softly. His voice was low and adult. Her Jacob had lived through a dead mother and a legless father, but whatever had happened to him that night had terrified him.

"It's like a never ending loop: wolf inside human inside wolf and so on. The more you phase, the easier it gets, but the first few times the pain is debilitating. Not to mention suddenly you're a giant wolf." He gave a humorless laugh,

"I could hear the other guys when I was changing, they talked me through it. They assured me I wasn't crazy and helped me deal with it." Jacob's voice was quiet and Bella felt ashamed to make him relive his pain in front of her. She briefly thought back to the burning venom that had infected her body last year, and her scar gave a pang of pity.

"Sam didn't have anyone," Jake continued. "There hadn't been a transformation in so long that they had faded to lore. He was completely alone."

Bella imagined this and felt sorrow for Sam. But she still couldn't really forgive him.

"Why was he scouting you out? Does he choose who is next?"

"Sam's our alpha, but he doesn't have any effect on who shifts. He kept his eye on me because of my lineage. I didn't really have a shot, I've got it on both sides of the family. Sam only had one side, same with Quil, who is my cousin."

"You said Sam acted like he _wanted_ you…before…" Bella trailed off.

Jacob nodded, "He couldn't help but hope a little. The pack knew that they needed another to enforce the lines. I was a shoe-in, and I've been…superlative."

"Bastard," Bella hissed. She had seen how the other boys were hurt by their secret, that despite their loneliness they never wished it on another. But Sam had hoped for it.

"He knew we needed another one to protect LaPush and Forks," Jacob tried to explain, "We all hoped I was the last, that I finished it all off. But you're right…Quil has been growing too fast lately. Not to mention his father says you could fry an egg on his forehead."

She remembered when she had first met Quil, he was already beefy. But he was kind of short. When she had picked him up yesterday, she had nearly mistaken him for Jacob. He had to be as tall as Bella by now.

"I don't want to feel sorry for Sam," Bella said, though she knew it was irrational, "I know he isn't to blame. But he still hurt you—he worried you so badly and he's doing the same to Quil. There has to be a better way. Also, I don't like that he _wanted_ you to change."

"So long as those bloodsuckers are around it was inevitable," Jacob sighed with a snarl.

"They keep calling me the _vampire girl_," Bella said gently, "Can you ask them to stop?"

Jacob looked at her, a strange gleam of hope in his eyes. Bella had to turn away. She added, "I'm nothing. I'm just Bella Swan. Tell them to call me by my name."

Jacob was quiet, absorbing the small rebuff, then he said, "You can still help us out. You've been behind enemy lines. You know more about Victoria than we do, more about how vampires work. If you help us, we can protect you."

Bella's lower lip trembled, the fear and exhaustion returning now. She handed the last of her forgotten muffin to Jacob, covering her face to hide her fear from him. Through her fingers she groaned, "I don't want any of you boys to die for me. I don't want any of this."

"But you don't want to die either," Jacob said, swallowing the muffin-half whole. There was a lag in Bella's response and she felt Jake's hand on her shoulder and his voice, suddenly urgent,

"Bella!"

"No," she sighed, "I don't want to die. But sometimes it seems like that's the easiest answer."

Jacob kept his eyes on Bella, she could feel his stare and she couldn't bring herself to meet those eyes—afraid of what she would see. She was sitting on a boulder, but Jacob was standing in front of her. She felt space open up as he stepped back and sighed, leaning heavily against a tree and sliding down to sit on the forest floor.

"I know what you mean," he whispered. Bella looked now, seeing a half-broken boy in a man's body, too much responsibility and hurt thrust upon his seemingly-able shoulders.

"Bella, look at me. I'm super-human, nearly invincible. My wounds heal within minutes, I'm immune to disease and even aging so long as I keep up regular phases. I'm everything I wanted for my people. As a wolf, I'll never get diabetes, never have a heart attack or find a tumor. I should be happy, shouldn't I? To know that something like me exists, to know that something in the blood of my people can fight back this wave of death." His eyes were damp and Bella could feel the gulf between them, the space that she insisted upon. She felt herself struggle with that boundary, watching her friend suffer.

"If we could all be like this," he said, as if to himself, "then the price is moot, isn't it? The price…" he took a shuddering breath and Bella couldn't help herself. She closed the gap and sat beside Jacob, leaning her head on his shoulder to let him know she was there. He continued after a few ragged breaths,

"The price is too high. It shouldn't be, I should gladly pay it, but I cannot. I wouldn't wish this upon anyone. It's not just the fear and the pain, when you first phase it is agony. I don't know whether it just gets better or whether I am growing desensitized due to the speed of it now. No, the heaviest part of the price is how I have aged, Bella. My cognitive self is closer to twenty-five than it is to sixteen. I've forfeited all rights to privacy, delusion, and secrecy. Every time I phase I must read myself through the filter of others, see who I truly am. I must hear them pick at my own thoughts and show them to me. I am utterly naked, and it has worn at me."

"Jacob—" Bella began, but he turned his head away from her, unable to look her in the eye.

"When I first changed, when I could finally comprehend what was happening to me, I felt Sam inside my head. He was there, in perfect symmetry with my thoughts, cutting through the lies I tell myself to get through life. He opened every single wound and poured salts on them. He didn't mean to, but he's as open to me as I am to him. I saw his every reaction to my secrets, and it was him who showed me what you meant to me," he took a slow breath, knowing he had to say this aloud.

"When I saw myself through Sam's filter, I saw past my own barriers. I saw who Bella Swan is to Jacob Black. And in the instant where I realized, where I _really_ realized, how desperately I need you… he took you from me. Because he can do that."

Jacob swallowed, wiping a big paw at his eyes, "He can override my will any time he wants. I just have to trust that he won't abuse that power. I don't want to be a puppet but at least he's a good master."

"No, Jacob!" Bella cried, "You are more than Sam! You are more than this curse!"

It was as though he couldn't hear her.

"You will never really love me back, I can see that. Not while you have _that_ in you, anyway," he nodded toward the makeshift sleeve covering her scar. "I've never really hated anything or anyone before. I never hated Sam, I just feared him. I never even hated the drunk who killed my mother, not really anyway. Nothing more than the frustrated hatred of a nine-year-old. But that quickly gave way to pity and grief. I'm not really used to hate. But I hate your Edward. I hate him. My instincts want to kill him, he burns my sensitivities. But when I think of what he has done to you, then all of me hates him. And that scares me sometimes."

"Jake," Bella cried softly. "Please don't…" she felt the break inside of her, the wound.

"Bella, I'm sorry," he turned to her, collecting her into a hug, "I'm sorry this is who I am now." She cried into his shirt, gasping for cool air and feeling her body convulse in grief. Jacob was gone. He was really lost to her, just like Edward. She took comfort in his physical form, and when the tears had finally stopped wrecking her body, when the weight of the past forty-eight hours had finally passed through her, she looked at Jacob's face. It was tear-stained and impassive.

She wondered if she loved Jacob enough to lie to him. If perhaps one small lie would bring him back, resurrect the boy who once pretended to be a mutant bear. But she couldn't say it, not yet.

She pulled off the sock-sleeve, letting the light catch on the funny scar. At least she could tell Jacob the whole story, all the truth of James. He may still hate Edward, but he had to know that Edward had saved her life a third time.

"It wasn't him," she began, "Victoria's mate did this to me. He tried to kill me last spring, took me as his pawn. He strangled me, broke my fingers and my leg. Stabbed me. If Carlisle weren't a three-hundred-year-old doctor I would have turned out a lot worse, but he reversed nearly all the damage. James poisoned me, I was going to die or turn if they didn't…" she looked to see if Jacob was even listening. He was staring at the scar on her arm, tears issuing down his cheeks.

"Carlisle could have done it. But Edward was the one who removed the venom. Edward was the one who saved me, even though I am his own curse. I am… my blood is… was…" she got confused, it was so hard to say these things. Her arm gripped her side, pressing against the _mancanza_. "He said I smelled like the cure. He told me that he knew, he just knew that if he could have all of me he would be human again. I don't know if that is true, I can't see how it is but…" she shrugged helplessly, "he stopped anyway. Whether it would have helped him or not, he said he—" but she couldn't finish that sentence aloud, because now it was a lie. _He said he couldn't live in a world without Bella_. A gasp caught in her throat and she felt like the muffins might come up again, like she had been kicked in the stomach.

Jacob stroked her back, helping her to control her breathing and waiting for her to calm again. He said soothing words and the warmth of his hand comforted her. But there was still the ache, still the want for a scream. _Edward how could you leave me_? She cried into herself.

She felt hot, papery lips brush alongside her temple, whispering. Finally she could hear the words, hear Jacob's reassurances.

"We'll kill her. We'll stop Victoria from hurting you. All of us will protect you now. All of us."


	15. Someone Get this Woman a Bourbon

_**Author's Note: **To the fans of Sam Uley, I've changed his back story. For those who are worried about imprinting, it has always been a part of my story arc but I wasn't going to address it until Book III (which is when Smeyer finally brings it up). However, because I love you guys SO MUCH I have re-written chapters and brought imprinting to light earlier. Look for it in chapter sixteen.._

_For now though, we are bringing you back to our regularly-scheduled programming! Fair **warning**: f-bomb! This is the first, but they begin to show up a little more toward the end of the novel as the dysfunction expands._

* * *

><p>When they arrived back at the ramshackle cottage no one asked about their disappearance—they were patient, the pack would learn of it later. Sam stood, acknowledging Bella and looking to Jacob. They exchanged meaningful glances and Sam offered Bella a chair, which she took gratefully.<p>

"You will help us?" Sam asked. His voice was low and handsome, his face rugged and detailed with lines. It was too bad that the wolf-blood in him made his vision impeccable, he'd look even better with James Dean glasses. He held authority over the room and he was undeniably charismatic. Something was singing to Bella from the kitchen, calling to her.

"Only if you give me some of that coffee," she said. The Quileute boys yipped and laughed, finding this inordinately funny. Once she had taken scalding, salvific slugs of the black coffee, she began explaining what she knew of the little trio that had taken on the Cullens and the remaining member. Sam asked questions that hurt Bella, but she only cried in front of Jacob. She was rigid and impassive with the wolf pack and politely declined to answer some of his interrogations.

"James used you as bait for the Cullens?" A nod. "Did he hurt you?"

"I don't see how that's relevant," Bella said gently. Jacob would show them anyway. Part of Sam's charisma was his calmness. He knew Bella spoke more readily to Jacob, and he knew Jacob would just spill her secrets later. He was patient because he was still in control. His confidence and authority would make even Jasper take notice. Sam took a new line of questioning, but there wasn't much more that they needed to learn from Bella.

"While you were gone," Sam began, "we discussed formations and a plan."

"Now _we're_ going to use Bella for bait!" Paul laughed, as though they had captured the other team's flag. Out of the corner of her eye Bella saw Jacob twist, and suddenly Paul was holding a can opener in front of his forehead—he must have caught it.

"She is not bait," Jacob said menacingly. Paul gave a nervous laugh and kept quiet.

"Bella is not bait," Sam confirmed, keeping his eye on the two, "but she is what Victoria wants. We must keep her and Charlie as our top priorities. Even while the Cullens are gone, we must maintain the treaty. It would be easier to fight Victoria on our own lands, but that means keeping Bella here." He turned to her and she nodded, but Sam wouldn't take such a blithe acceptance.

"Bella we are protectors, but the pack is still young," he explained. Bella looked at the boys around the table, all of them varnished in youth and physical perfection. "And," Sam continued, "as you have seen, some of us are not yet in control of our tempers." His eyes swept all four boys. "I cannot yet promise you won't come to harm at our own hands."

"I won't hurt her," Jacob rumbled, his voice sounding more like Billy's every day. Sam pretended not to hear.

"You're safer than Victoria," Bella said. "It shouldn't be too hard to keep Charlie here, either." She missed Jacob so terribly that she would gladly risk her life to be with him in her last days.

* * *

><p>The pack could rarely spare Jacob to watch Bella, and so she found herself going on lonely beach runs. She had been irritated by her slowness when she had thought Jacob was chasing her down: the sand pulled at her feet and she had to keep her balance even lighter than usual. She had been cruel to her body in the past weeks and tired quickly. She had to run in intervals, her lungs burning and her heart overloading too easily. She hated interval running because every time she slowed to a walk her thoughts would rush back and bother her.<p>

_So what's up with Jacob__?_ Her mind would ask her. This had been easier when he wasn't attracted to her, when it was just a silly dream that he'd dispel with his presence. _Just get it out of the way_, she would rationalize, _I'll scratch his back and he'll scratch mine_. There was something terribly serious about Jacob now, and she doubted he would accept a throw-away night. He wanted too much of her, and she'd already given most of that away. _Jesus, am I really thinking about this?_ She broke into another run to escape the questions, but after only a few minutes her lungs would give out and she'd have to back off again.

_Okay,_ she'd think, _so do you love him back_? The answer was always a vehement _No_, but when she asked herself why not she couldn't find an answer. She _should_ love him, right? That would be the sensible course. But she didn't; at least not enough for an authentic relationship. She knew that the answer behind her trepidation lay within the sealed up memories of Edward. In the depths of that tainted love was a kernel of truth, the measure by which all her relationships would be compared. She'd experienced a real love with him, even if it had ultimately destroyed her. If she was ever going to love again she would have to go back to the source and see how Jacob stacked up. But she couldn't undo those locks, she could not release that deluge.

Occasionally, one of the other wolf-boys would have "time off" and track her down. She was surprised that both Embry and Paul sought her out to apologize. Paul blushed his apology quickly and left, but when Embry found her on the beach he stuck around.

"Nice cartwheel," he said, scaring her so badly that she fell over. She'd gotten bored with sprinting and decided to practice tumbling. He gave an apologetic mumble and asked, "You checked your baseline recently?" Bella avoided his eyes and dusted sand off her front.

"Improvements across the board," she said, " but I still can't do a pull-up."

"Arm strength is harder for women," he said, kicking at the sand.

"What's going on, Embry?" She sighed, not wanting to go through the rigmarole of polite conversation. If he asked her about the weather she was going to choke him again. "Why are you here?"

"We only ever had Emily before," he shrugged, "and the council leaders don't really want to hang out with us. No one else even knows..." His voice trailed off and Bella smiled to herself: he was lonely.

"Emily isn't much of a wrestler, huh?" She guessed.

Embry smiled and they talked about speed, strength and agility. All of these came easily to Embry as a wolf, and his human form had instantly improved as well—but he admired Bella for her fight.

"I can do some drills with you sometime, if you like," he offered shyly. Bella jumped at the idea, bored to tears without Jacob. She could recognize more of Embry now, he wasn't just another quintuplet, a young Sam. He was almost Embry again, and he was shy around girls, even unwieldy ones like Bella. He suggested doing various upper-body work together. Bella liked punching, but she hadn't been able to practice with Jacob for weeks.

* * *

><p>When Jacob tracked her down, she was performing a slow-motion ten-count with Embry. Earlier he had held her by the ankles and helped her with the handstand push-ups that Jake had once shown her. Then they had done punching flurries, interrupted by various push-ups. Jacob loved push-ups, but Embry wanted to take them across state lines and marry them. She didn't know there were so many versions of such a hellish exercise. He tried to get her to do clapping push-ups but she kept landing face-first in the sand. Finally, when her arms gave out, they worked slow-motion techniques.<p>

Embry had slowed it down so that Bella could work on recycling her energy, keeping the transitions as fluid and light as a dancer. Jacob watched from a distance as she would lean her weight forward and send out her thin wrist, the long arm behind it unfurling like a whip until she hit full extension and reversed the movement. She loved these drills, they made her concentrate on anything but her mind and made her feel strangely beautiful. She shifted her weight back slowly, still redrawing the fist that had found its target, and pivoting to bring her strongest arm into a slow, solid hook. She was sweaty and dirty, but happy again. Embry high-fived her with a smile and then trotted up to Jacob, giving him a quick fist-bump before ducking into the woods to pick up Jacob's shift.

"Sorry I'm gone so much," he said, "We chased her all the way to Canada this time. We're starting to leave holes, but she hasn't found them yet."

Embry had worked hard to get Bella out of her head, but Jacob had brought her right back inside it. Her expression and shoulders dropped. _Right, the vampire who's going to kill me and my family. Thank, Jacob._

"We'll get her, Bella," he assured her. "Want to go for a run?" He suggested, but she shook her head, too tired. She started stretching her chest and shoulders, feeling distant from Jacob. She didn't want to talk about the violent death awaiting her which the others called Victoria. She didn't want to open up to Jacob anymore when he would just go and show everything to the wolf-pack. She knew her future, and she knew these sweet boys could not keep her safe. Strangely, Bella couldn't think of what she and Jacob had ever talked about before the red head appeared on the scene. Before Jacob had confessed his love. They were uneasily silent with each other, pacing slowly through the treeline.

"Did you tell Embry to apologize to me or was it Sam?" She finally asked.

"Neither. Well, maybe Sam, but it wasn't an order. He's been teaching us some pretty important stuff concerning our emotional control." Bella snorted, having a pretty clear idea of what that would look like.

"You mean emotional repression," she said, following Jacob along the trail back to his house.

"The opposite," he said, surprising her. "If we bottle that stuff up, it will hurt the people we love most," his voice was quiet and they both saw Emily's twisted face in their heads.

* * *

><p>"She left him after that," he said, guessing her thoughts. Bella didn't know this story.<p>

"Why did she come back?" She asked.

"Sam had had problems with a few things: drinking, parties, anger. He wasn't a total mess, but he was on track for it thanks to his dad. The change happened, and shortly afterward he hurt Emily. She went to go volunteer in a hospital, somewhere where her scars wouldn't be so shocking. She did pretty well for herself, actually," Jacob continued.

"But Sam was a wreck, you know? He enrolled in some different programs that we offer in our community, and he learned some lessons about love and control. Sometimes he dropped in when me and other boys would be sparring for fun, and I remember he gave me a piece of advice that I've kept to this day.

"It was a messy brawl between me and Quil. No blood, but I took more hits than usual and I wasn't feeling like I could make it much further. I felt defeated and angry with myself. Sam took me aside and said, 'Whatever you are feeling, don't push it away. Let it move through your body. Use it, and then it won't use you.'"

"You said that to me once," Bella said gently. Jacob nodded. It had been around the time when he was teaching her different escapes from chokes, the attack that sometimes mentally crippled her. _Use it so it won't use you_.

"I didn't know about James then," he said, "but I hope it helped. The other guys are only really learning that stuff now: that they can't just be proud fighters all the time. We all know about Sam and Emily's relationship. He's taught us what real men look like. He isn't afraid to hug us, or say that he loves us. He gets scared sometimes. He cries. I don't know how he does it, but he is still so strong. No one would dare say he's not a man."

"How did Emily come back?" Bella asked, not wanting to hear about manliness or imagine Sam Uley as anything but a douchebag.

"She came home to visit her family every few weeks, and each time she would hear something new about Sam. He was cleaning himself up and helping others. He was taking pride in the tribe and language, dedicating himself to personal studies of our history. He was changing, becoming the man that Emily deserved, that his tribe needed. He was the only one, remember, the only protector in generations. But he took all that responsibility, never flinching.

"She didn't believe it at first, but when she would run into him at the store, or when he would drop in to visit her family she could see that he was different. One night she finally talked to him, and he surprised her with how much he had grown in only a few months. He changed her mind, and ever since he has only worked to gain back her trust."

* * *

><p>Bella didn't like where this conversation was headed. Even if it was only the soul-deadening talk of true love and success, she didn't want to hear about it. But it was worse than that. Jacob was imagining himself as Sam, a difficult and screwed-up monster hurting the only one that he loved, and trying to fight his way back to her. But Bella was also imagining herself as Sam—she had driven away her love, and she deserved it. She could never entertain the idea of Edward's return because she believed his reasons for leaving and agreed with them: she was so little, so much nothing to him. She only marred his beauty and blunted his edges.<p>

"You can see what they have," Jacob said, "that's love. It's a model for the rest of the pack."

"How did we get on this conversation?" Bella asked, wishing she could remember how to laugh.

"On the beach, when you thought I was a killer, you talked about redemption." Jacob said. "Can you do something for me, Bella? Can you wait for me?"

"Wait for you to do what?" She asked. Jacob stood in front of her, blocking the path. _Oh no._

"Sam's right. It is dangerous for you to be around us. But I want you here and you want to be here. I'm better at controlling myself than the others." Jacob didn't take any pride in his ability, in fact he recoiled from the attention. "With time I won't be a danger to you at all," he continued, "But you would have to wait for me."

"I'll always be your friend, Jacob," Bella said gently. She couldn't take this. She couldn't take another _I'm learning how not to kill you_ speech. It was too Edward and it was all wrong coming from Jacob's mouth.

"You know what I'm asking," he said, stepping closer to her. Despite the ubiquity of the shirtless boys, Bella still felt bothered whenever Jacob's orbit would wobble too close to her own. The radiant heat caused solar flares, magnetic short-circuits in her brain. It shamed and upset her that his body would accept her own, and it dug at a part of Bella that had only been awakening itself when she was with Edward: Jacob was physically attracted to her. He had seen the jiggling, the hairy legs, the dirt and sweat. He had touched her body enough to know the distance between fat and muscle in her tissues. Ever since his change, she hadn't let him touch her like that—it wouldn't mean the same thing anymore.

"You're still the one waiting on me," Bella said, taking a half-step back. "I'm all fucked up Jacob, you don't want this."

"You think the boys haven't tried to talk me out of this?" He asked, "You think I've just got some stupid crush?" He shook his head, "I know what this is, Bella. I've seen it from all angles and no one can ignore what we could have together. But you have to let him go."

"You don't know what you're saying," she said. She was afraid of something, absolutely terrified.

"Don't fight these emotions," Jacob coaxed her, reaching out a hand to lightly traced the side of her face, pushing back the sticky little curls around her temples. "Use them, let them go through you." She jerked away.

"That bloodsucker hurt us so badly," he said with so much sorrow in his voice, "He broke something beautiful and his coven set a curse on my tribe. He never deserved you. You are beautiful, Bella. You are strong, you belong with warriors. You _are_ a warrior."

"It's not like that. You don't know anything about what we were," Bella could feel anger taking over her now, winning out against the confusing rush of fear and sickness. "How dare you!" she spat, "How dare you assume you know what we had!"

Jacob didn't know the secret moments or the soft glances. The memories were bursting out angrily, pressurized and hot, and it burned Bella badly to try and control them. The moments when Edward would give himself over to giddiness and be goofy. Edward letting Charlie call him Ed, manfully swallowing platefuls of food. The way his face changed when he looked into her eyes.

"Stop calling him a bloodsucker," she said angrily, "they control themselves."

"I don't think that's true," Jacob said. Before Bella could interrupt he continued, "Look what he's done to you. He's drained you of something, taken away some of your livelihood: that's what vampires _do_. You're always a quart low, always just shy of normal. His methods may be more sophisticated, but the magic is the same. He is still stealing your life away."

"No," she groaned, "stop. He's not stealing anything. He's not _magic_!" she spat the word, incredulous that they were even having this conversation. She shook her head, fighting the tears clinging to her eyelashes, "He just broke my heart." _Broke it to horrible, sharp little fragments._

"You admit that you love me as a friend. I can feel your attraction—"

"Look at you!" She laughed bitterly, "A blind person can tell that you're gorgeous!"

"Then what is stopping you?"

"No, Jacob," she said, not wanting to have this conversation. She turned away from him but his movements were fluid—he was always in front of her.

"Love _and_ attraction," he insisted, "admit it. _Let_ yourself feel it. Stop running, Bella."

"It's not the same!" She shouted, "It's not enough!"

Jacob was stung, but he didn't flinch. He kept his eyes on Bella.

"Enough?" He asked, carefully. Bella felt her center caving in on itself, her gravity displaced. The bloated star had burst into a black hole, and it was consuming her greedily. She would implode. Everything was coming back to her.

Edward tasting one of her teardrops with curiosity. Edward and her jumping around in his bedroom to upbeat pop music. Edward helping her soar through the trees, running in a blur of speed. Edward with that ridiculous baseball jersey and a look of such concentration that it made her blush. The way he called her "little one" and the first time he kissed her full on the mouth, deep in the lush magic of his woods.

"If I hadn't known what…_he_…had given to me, then…" She didn't know how to end that sentence, didn't know how to process the images and emotions whirring through her. Jacob was close to her now, his arms pulling her against him, straightening her bent body to look at him, feel him.

"Let go of him," he said, "He's gone. I'm here."

Bella pulled her head away, pushed her hands against his chest. She felt sick and harangued—the nightmares were descending and she was still awake. Every flash of Edward's smile was another break to her bones. Edward had confessed that she smelled like salvation to him, that she was the mysterious answer to his century-long torment, yet he had refused to kill her when he had the chance. He had spit out her blood willfully, he had fought his nature for her.

"I can't," she said, struggling weakly, "It's wrong. I can't."

She felt her legs give out, felt the dark swallowing her. She was shaking her head, holding back the tremors of terror and loneliness that Edward brought upon her. Then they hysteria let loose, she couldn't fight it anymore. Her putrescence, her self-hatred, everything that was wrong with her came to the fore and she shuddered in its wake. There was no reasoning with her any more, she yelled,

"I gave it away! _He took it away_!" and beat her fists against anything around her.

Jacob held her as she struggled and spit, crying and screaming with the agony of nightmares she had locked away. Her body trembled and her face was unrecognizable. He had seen this before, but it didn't make sense on Bella—it was like a sunflower with an electrical cord. She was in the repressed agony of grief—to her, Edward had died. One by one, he had watched his two sisters spasm with this sort of grief for their mother, and then leave him alone with Billy.

Eventually she fell asleep, exhausted by her own tantrum. He picked her up gently, his own tears now dry. Cleaning Bella's wounds meant opening some of his own, checking the stitching to remember how he had survived. Gingerly, he carried her to the house. Charlie and Billy were talking about the most recent game over the remains of dinner. Charlie stood, horrified, when he saw his daughter's limp body in Jacob's arms.

"She's fine," Jacob said. "I pushed her too hard today," he lay her on the couch, covering her in a quilt.

"What do you mean?" Charlie asked angrily, keeping his voice down to not wake Bella.

"I thought she had been getting better. Sam had taught us about looking at our emotions square on, facing the bad stuff. I thought she was strong enough to see what that boy had done to her."

"Jacob…" Charlie's voice was a warning menace, even though he was eight full inches shorter than the boy.

"She'll be better when she wakes up. It's better if she gets some of it out. He poisoned her, and she just keeps that poison locked inside."

"You're absolutely right," Charlie said, his voice still angry, "but that doesn't give you leave to try and psychoanalyze my daughter."

"She'll be fine, Charlie," Billy said from his chair. His voice stopped any further conversation and they all turned to watch the girl sleep.


	16. Imprinting

_**Author's Note:** Wooo! Even though this story has a tenth the number of hits as BSFU, it officially has **more reviews**! Yaaayyy! You guys are the best because you are VOCAL! And this is how much I love you guys: I was going to save the imprinting talk until book III (which Smeyer does) but then it was brought to my attention that I already bring a lot of the information from Eclipse into Running with Wolves (because I strongly value honesty and communication for healthy relationships). So, here's your imprinting talk! I changed things a bit to suit my needs, and I've also edited and re-written the upcoming chapters in light of this new information. Enjoy!_

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><p>Bella woke up in her own bed, feeling lugubrious and awful. Her head hurt and her eyes were crusted. She rubbed at her face, groaning, and a gentle voice said,<p>

"It's okay, Bella," She jumped at the sound, pulling the bed sheets around her. She had a dehydration headache and Jacob Black was in her room-for a horrible moment she couldn't remember how this had come about and she wondered if it had finally happened.

"Jake!" She whispered angrily, hating to be surprised. He was crouched by her bed, his back to the wall.

"Sam gave me leave to watch you through the night. In case you had any nightmares." She was oddly comforted by the fact, and surreptitiously checked to see if her clothes were still on. They were, and the memory of her breakdown came back to her. Ugh. She had thought drunk sex would have been the worst thing she could have done, but it paled in comparison to the image of her passing out in the woods.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, sitting on her bed. She pulled her legs away from him, drawing the sheets higher around her.

"Horrible," she croaked. "You're pushing too hard. It makes me nervous," her tongue was heavy in her mouth and she could taste her own bad breath.

"I'm trying to make up for lost time, Bella. I didn't mean to be so blind."

"Please, don't," She pleaded quietly. Her lungs constricted and she tried to shake off the impending conversation. "You're no fun anymore, Jake. You're always so serious."

"Bella, there's an insane vampire out to-"

"You think I don't know that?" She hissed angrily, "You think I just forget that when I go to sleep at night? I don't need you to remind me, Jake."

"You're right, and I'm sorry. Sam's just... he's a serious guy, and it's catching. I'm worried about you, Bella," he reached out a hand to reassuringly touch her foot but then withdrew it. She was still curled up away from him, staring with unfriendly eyes. "I'm sorry," he said again, "listen. Why don't you come over for breakfast before my next shift starts? Later I can show you something," he let an old grin creep across his face, "A surprise to help take your mind off things." His smile was warm, but it still wasn't familiar. He was old now, world-weary. He said goodbye and vaulted through the window again, landing easily on the grass and jogging into the woods.

Bella took a long, hot shower and contemplated installing bars on her bedroom window. She was dirty and sweaty and grimy. All the sweating she did seemed to have completely cleared up her acne, but transversely it also caused her to break out on her back and other areas if she didn't clean up soon after exercising. She spent a full minute cleaning the dirt out from under her nails, and she washed her hair twice just to be sure. She brushed her teeth for five minutes, scraping her tongue. Everything she did was meticulous, her concentration fully on the task at hand. She didn't have the emotional energy to think about last night or Jacob.

"Bells?" Charlie asked. She emerged from the bathroom looking put together for once. She was tired and her brain was foggy, but the zombie look was mercifully absent. She had slept for over fifteen hours.

"Can you drive me to LaPush? I'm supposed to have breakfast with Jacob," she said, moving past Charlie to go downstairs. She drank glass after glass of water and took her time putting on her shoes. Finally Charlie was ready and they hopped in the cruiser.

"You sure you want to see Jacob today?" He asked warily, starting the engine.

"Of course I do, he's my friend."

"You were pretty beat up last night," Charlie said, "Jacob told us about it. Said you had a breakdown."

"Yeah, well I don't want to talk about it. I'm fine now, okay?" Why did he have to push her so hard? What was the deal with this sudden urgency? Maybe he knew what Bella knew, that Victoria would eventually win. Maybe he just wanted Bella to say yes before she died. Shouldn't she give him that?

Charlie drove in silence the rest of the way. By the time they got to the Black's house Bella was nauseated from hunger. She cursed herself for not grabbing an apple on the way out. Luckily, Jacob had been making pancakes and Billy was happily eating them alongside some eggs. He pushed a plate towards Bella and she dove on it, downing half a glass of orange juice before Charlie could even say goodbye.

Billy and Jacob talked to each other with an easy chatter as Bella ate, and she watched them. The pancakes were small and light, prepared with cinnamon and topped with jam. Jake always was cooking for Billy, alway trying to monitor the diabetes. But recently, he had been gone too much, trying to protect Bella. She realized this was a sort of forgiveness breakfast for Billy, apologizing to him. It made her slow down her inhalation of the foods. She and Billy had finished by the time Jacob sat down, a six-layer cake of jam and breakfast in front of him. Charlie was right to wonder how they could afford to feed the boy. Embry had mentioned that the council set up a small fund for the werewolves, to supplement their clothes and groceries.

Bella found herself thinking as she watched Jacob cut and eat his pancake breakfast. Despite her own intentions, she couldn't help but think about the previous night and the piece that Edward had taken from her. It hadn't been stolen or sucked from her, but willfully given. She had thought it had been an exchange and that she held onto a piece of him as well, but this was apparently untrue. Whatever she had given him, it had been large and important, like an arm. Jacob was offering her a prosthetic, which would function just fine—but it would never have the nerves or the muscle memory of the original limb. Why couldn't she just accept that?

It was a catch-22, she realized: she didn't want to be with Jacob now because he had lost the glossiness of his youth and was too weighted with responsibility. She missed his irreverence and awkwardness. But then again, she wouldn't have dated him before he was a wolf because she thought he was too young and pristine. She couldn't smudge the new paint. Now he was plenty wrecked for her and she still wouldn't have him. How could he even want someone as ruined as her?

"So what are we doing today?" Bella asked, her first words since entering the little home.

"We're going on a walk with Sam," Jacob smiled. She felt his hand squeeze her knee, trying to communicate something he didn't want Billy to see.

"You know I don't like Sam," Bella grumbled good-naturedly, deciding to play along for Billy's sake. Jacob laughed, flashing a broad smile and shaking his head, as if they were in some family sitcom and she had said something hilarious.

"This is a chance for him to change your mind. He's already won over Charlie," Jacob said, his hand still on Bella's knee. She moved her leg away.

"He brought Emily and cake, those won over Charlie."

"What don't you like about Sam?" Billy asked, unable to mask his gruffness.

Bella thought about maintaining the delicate air of civility that Jacob had been weaving. She could say she didn't like the cut of his jib, and give a girlish laugh. But she didn't like how Jake was behaving, didn't like his false laughter and the way he squeezed her kneecap.

"I don't like that he scares the younger boys," she said swallowing the last of her breakfast and meeting Billy's old eyes.

"It would scare them worse to know the truth," Billy said sagely.

"You know that's not true," Bella shot back. "Those kids would love to be superheroes. And they need the training that Jake went through. You're letting them go into this totally blind and scared."

"C'mon, Bella," Jacob said, standing suddenly. "Sam's waiting." Billy said goodbye, agreeing to cut off the conversation there. Too bad, Bella felt herself working up for a good fight.

"Please don't argue with my dad," Jacob sighed when they left.

"Is that why you were touching me? Don't touch me, Jake."

"I was just trying to calm you down." He said with an edge of frustration in his voice.

"Well it worked like a charm, didn't it? Are we really going to see Sam?"

"No," Jacob said and Bella wanted to punch him for getting her riled up senselessly, "You are," he added. Bella stopped.

"No." She said.

"What? He has things he needs to explain to you. You have to give him a shot."

"Stop it, Jake." She said angrily, "Stop trying to fix me. You attacked me last night, invaded my privacy, and now you want me to work things out with Sam? You can't force this stuff. You're driving me crazy."

"Sam knows all about our situation, and he has some good opinions on the subject," Jacob said, reaching for Bella's hand.

"What about me? Don't I get a say?" She jerked back her hand, angry. "You don't talk to me anymore," she accused. "Where are you?"

"I told you before," he sighed, "I'm not the Jacob you used to know." But Bella wasn't moving. She was angry and more lonely now that Jacob was visibly distant.

"Why do I have to talk to Sam? Why can't you talk to me?" She asked.

"Because when I want to talk to you it all goes to hell!" Jacob shouted. "You know how I feel about you, Bella. Do you think it's fun for me to watch you reject me all day?"

She flinched back at this. Jacob calmed down, though he hadn't been in danger of phasing. "Sam is a neutral party. He knows my mind, he can speak for me without making you…uncomfortable. They way that I obviously do." Bella felt terrible and ashamed. She stepped forward and slipped her hand into Jacob's, following him along the trail now.

"You only make me uncomfortable when you act like you know what's best for me," she said gently. Jacob gave a dry laugh, his hot hand loosely closed around hers.

"Yeah right," he said, "I make you uncomfortable when I touch you, but you can touch me all you want. I make you uncomfortable when I suggest we get counseling from Sam, because when I tried to help you last night you went catatonic." Bella pursed her lips, stung by his honesty but grateful for it as well. Maybe Jacob did know what was best. She should at least humor him.

"Anyway," Jacob sighed, wiping a hand across his face, "I thought we could go cliff jumping afterward to loosen you up."

"Really?" Bella lit up but then immediately wilted. Jacob wanted to bond with her but the cliff jumping had been another excuse for her to see Edward. He didn't even know that crazy part about her, and if she went seeking Edward while pretending to bond with Jacob, well, it felt like she was cheating on Jacob somehow. Her head hurt and she wished she'd had more coffee. This relationship was screwy—maybe it was better to have a third party help them through it.

Jacob handed Bella off at the beach, leaving her with a lingering look and more confusion in her stomach. Sam was waiting patiently, arms crossed over his bare chest. She didn't know what to say to him; would Hi be in order?

"Has Jacob told you that I asked him to become alpha?" Sam asked. Bella was startled by the news.

"What?"

"I guess not. He doesn't want it. He resists the idea of blood-fate, but his line makes him the perfect alpha for our pack."

"What about you?" Bella asked, stepping into pace with him as they walked in the early light of morning. Sam really cut to the point.

"I am only alpha because I was first. I have more experience, but I am not made for this. It is not my destiny." Bella didn't like how Sam talked about fate and destiny, and she could guess why Jacob turned the responsibility down.

"Who are you to know Jake's destiny?" She asked angrily, defending her friend.

"Bella, haven't you noticed that magic is real?" Sam asked in his prematurely-old voice. "We are men who turn into wolves in order to hunt down vampires. Can something as simple as fate, then, not be real?"

"They aren't the same thing," Bella said, "so what if your biology is different than my own, you still have free will."

"Yes and no," Sam agreed, "I could force Jacob to change his mind, but I will not. I prefer to hope that he will eventually realize his path. I am not saying that life is clear, Bella," Sam said, "but occasionally, it is very clear what our decisions must be."

Sam, Billy and now Jake all had the same way of couching their words, and Bella realized a second conversation was going on beneath the surface. She hated that.

"Jacob prizes free will," Bella said, remembering one of their very first conversations about how Sam admired Jacob's lineage, "and I support him in that. he shouldn't be the alpha unless he chooses it, fate has nothing to do with that."

Sam gave a sad smile, "I can see why you are tied to him," he said, "you both reject the inevitable. Perhaps that is why he has failed to imprint, though I thought it was your blood impurity."

Bella shook her head as though a bee had gotten stuck in her ear, "What the hell are you saying? Imprinting...what?"

Sam stopped walking to stare at Bella carefully. His physical maturation halted around twenty-one, yet he had the assurance of someone like Billy, someone who had been around for awhile and seen many things.

"I cannot guess the reasons why Jacob has not told you these things," he murmured, "I saw that he related my own story, but I did not pry any further. His rejection of fate is so whole that he leaves you ignorant."

"Sam I swear to God if you don't start speaking English-"

"What?" He smiled with the weariness of a man who spends his time arguing with scrappy youth, "you'll karate-chop my throat?" Sam was calm and moved with a lazy grace, but Bella recalled the black wolf and the man who boomed orders to his disciples. She didn't want to challenge Sam on a physical level, even if he weren't a werewolf she would never win.

"Fate is real, Bella. Blood-destiny is real. You and Jacob share a sweet certain rebelliousness, you romanticize free-will. A greater something formed the wolves as a response to the cold ones, and that greater something weaves our destiny. We should not fight it, and we would be happier to acquiesce." His voice was not like Jacob's, with the high-clipping notes and the occasional sing-song, but she could tell that he was entering a reverential story and she decided to listen.

"Our blood tells us so much," he began, "perhaps that is why the cold ones demand it, because it is our essential information. Jacob's blood will make him a great leader one day and it will be easier if he accepts that. But our blood also chooses our allies, which is called imprinting. It is how I fell upon Emily, and it happens when the wolf needs a mate. I thought that perhaps we can only imprint on our own blood, perhaps that is why his gravity has not shifted. Now I wonder if it is your shared resistance to fate that stops the two of you. It would be much easier for him if he simply fell. I do not simply love Emily," Sam continued, "she is my centering force and my internal compass. My entire life is calibrated to her existence. She is all of me and my purpose for existence. It is significantly more than love, and it happens instantly upon touch or eye contact. We are helpless against it. But I do not resent this, for fate has chosen well for me. I would love Emily regardless of my imprinting. Jacob-"

"No!" Bella found herself interrupting, "No, that's horrible! That's not love if you don't choose it!"

Sam again stopped to examine the bedraggled woman that Jacob Black had fallen in love with. "Have you never felt helpless against love?" he asked, "Did you consciously choose to love your parents? Was it a decision you made willingly?"

"Why are you talking to me about this?" She asked hoarsely.

"Jacob needs you. In order for him to realize his truth, he must stand strong. He needs your support in order to do that."

"He's my best friend, in that regard he will always have my support."

"You withdraw yourself too easily, Bella. You are fickle in your heart and it wounds him."

"What are you trying to do, marry me to him?" she snorted, "He's sixteen! Why are you so fatalistic?"

"He is much older than that now, yet he will never be older than sixteen while the cold ones are around."

"What?" Bella asked, again confused by Sam's double speak.

"He has been asked to mature quickly, because of the death of his mother. Then his father had to quit fishing and Jacob became the master of his house. Finally, the change came upon him and he saw how gruesome life is. Jacob is old, you can see that." There was a pause and a silence as they walked. Bella let Jacob's life sink in.

"He's not the boy I once loved," Bella said sadly, remembering a grin that seemed long lost.

"No, but he will always be sixteen. So long as his shape is demanded of him, he will not age. Only when the danger is passed and he can stay human will he again begin to age."

"What the hell kind of a fate is that?" Bella asked angrily. She hated this new similarity between Jacob and Edward.

"It saddens me, too. I have had to choose my tribe over Emily. I will watch her grow without me until the leeches are exterminated. Then grace will let me live and die with my beloved." She could hear the hatred Sam felt towards the vampires—they kept him from Emily. She could understand that sort of animosity, strangely, she could forgive him for that. A horrible piece of her was even wondering if the imprinting thing were real, if perhaps that was how Edward had so successfully ruined her.

"You mean even if they return and live by the treaty, none of you will grow up until they leave again?" She asked.

"We are not meant to live together. The treaty is good, but it is also an abomination. The Cullens cannot return until the town forgets them, and we will soon kill Victoria. There is hope that the end is coming."

"Poor Jacob," she whispered. He was right to call it a curse. Sam gladly relinquished his free will, saying it made life easier. It gave him Emily, after all. But she could never ask Jacob to do that, could never encourage him to give way to the demands of blood-fate.

"He needs you," Sam repeated. "You bolster him. He needs your dedication. You will be his chosen imprint."

Bella stared helplessly, "He's just a kid. I'm just a kid. And I'm all weird and messed up. Why does it have to be so serious?" He was trying to marry them off. As calm as he appeared, she realized that Sam was fundamentally insane.

"There are no others for Jacob," Sam said. "He will always have this secret. It will rift any new friendship he makes and undermine all his romances. With our secret comes intense loneliness. He loved you before he changed, and you love him despite his fate. You are the only one left for him."

"No," Bella said, horrified. "He's only sixteen. We don't have to make these decisions yet."

"You must claim him, and in doing so, show your allegiance to us."

"My allegiance is to those that I love, those that have earned a space in my heart. You and the cold ones may not live peacefully in life, but you are together inside me," Bella fumed, pounding a fist to her chest. Sam was trying to arrange her fate, remove her will, just like he did with Jacob.

"You cannot serve two masters," Sam smiled grimly, deeply etched frown lines marking his handsome face.

"I don't." Bella cried, "I serve one: love. And I can feel that for whomever I choose."

"We do not choose love," Sam reminded, "and you love Jacob now." It wasn't a question.

"Not enough to make him my life," Bella whispered. It hurt, but nothing like the engulfing hysteria of the previous night. It hurt to admit she would never revolve around Jacob, because it made her realize this is exactly what she had done with Edward. She forgot where Bella ended and Edward began, and rejected the whole mess of it in order to feel numb. Now she realized that if she ever wanted to be Bella again, she would have to incorporate the air pockets as well: the cavities where Edward had once filled out her structure.

She wanted to see Jacob again, dive the cliff with him and make up her mind. With him by her side and Edward's voice, she might be able to finally understand what stopped her from choosing Jacob. She might be able to compare them and see the differences. But she couldn't use the Edward in her head—he changed shape too easily and felt unreal. She needed them both, one last time.


	17. Death & Sleeping with Jacob

_**Author's Note: **This is the shortest piece at barely 3500 words, but it is also my **favorite** because it is where everything begins the torturous effort of turning. We are at the hinge point, and any architect or physician will tell you that the hinges are the points incurring most stress._

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><p>"Take me to Jacob." She said to Sam. He told her to wait, he would have to phase in order to hear the others. Her brain was clear now, thinking and calculating again. But when Sam came back his face worried her.<p>

"Jacob is following a lead. I have to go with him."

"Is he okay?" She asked.

"Of course he is okay," Sam gave her a friendly smile. She almost forgot that he was crazy. "Can you get back to the house on your own?" The trails between the beach and the houses were safe enough for Bella to walk alone. Her meager warmth dissolved at the prospect of a whole day with Billy. She nodded, watching Sam run back into the woods, and turned back to the house. Maybe she could vent some of her frustration at the old codger, calling him out on his bullshit and raging against this blood-fate crap. But as she walked, she couldn't get the image of jumping out of her mind. She saw the free fall, flying through the air, and the welcome embrace of the ocean. Maybe she could do this on her own. See Edward one more time and make her decision.

The fog took over her brain again, and she drove her truck mechanically, finding the trail head that she assumed led to the cliffs. It was a short hike, which was good, she didn't want to clutter her brain with too much activity. She was on a mission. Her circuitry shut down, she ignored the persistently dark sky and the keening wind. She was wearing her running shoes, jeans, and a sweat shirt; she did not think about what would happen when she hit the water. She had to hear Edward again—the _real_ Edward, to feel the edges of his hold on her.

She looked for a second trail that might lead to the smaller cliffs, the ones Jake had told her about and most likely meant to use. But she wasn't disappointed to find herself at the full ledge with no way to get down. She stood where Sam and his disciples had been on the day with the motorcycles. She touched the light scar on her hairline. None of this was Edward's fault. She was the crazy one who had to crash bikes and jump off cliffs just to feel sane again. Somehow, inconceivably, Jacob had fallen in love with her despite the craziness. Then he had been consumed by a curse, and she might be able to save him, might be able to help him become a leader. But she had to know what she was giving up first.

Bella stepped back from the edge, as though sanity had finally gripped her, finally brought her attention to the in-rushing hurricane. But she was only gathering momentum for flight. She rushed forward, springing her feet at the last second and letting out a full, insane scream. Her blood screamed with her, the wind screamed alongside her, trying to catch at her but always bested by gravity. There was so much screaming, such a primordial release of adrenaline, that Bella didn't know if Edward's voice had made an appearance until the water swallowed her in amniotic silence.

She heard muffled sounds of the waves crashing above her, and felt exhilaration and complete lightness of being. Her head broke through the waves and and she pulled in a grateful breath, laughing and wild. She had survived the fall. Before she could ask where Edward's voice had been, she felt a draw on her body. She turned to see the receding ocean, drawing back to slam her with an aquatic punch. There was no chance to dodge. She managed to gulp down air and a little water before the wave hit her. She tried not to struggle, letting her body roll with the movement and resurface again, but the waves came in tandem, pushing her down again before she could break the surface.

"Keep fighting! Swim!" Edward said to her. _Edward!_ She thought, frozen by his presence.

"Go! Keep swimming, don't stop, Bella!" _Edward cares for me_, Bella thought to herself, soaking in the lie she had craved, feeling that wash over her. She obeyed him, because he knew what was best and because she did want to live, but the water had buffeted her so much that she wasn't sure which was was up anymore. All she saw was murky water. Her lungs hurt and she felt panic rising in her blood.

"Stay calm, you need to break to the surface. You can do this, just keep moving!" But Bella was quickly tiring, quickly losing her will. Her struggles slackened despite Edward's desperate cries, and the sound of his anguish strangely comforted her. She felt unconsciousness edging at her brain, and knew that she would die. It was a horrible death, and they might never find her, but at least it ended in sleep. She felt the weight of her body give up, dragging itself down, her mind falling with it.

She sank quickly, as though her body were lead rather than carbon, and she went so deep that she came out the other side. With a startling intake of salty air, Bella broke the surface, but her brain continued to sink.

She eventually became aware that she was sobbing again, and throwing up, too. Except the taste of the bile was different—salt and grit. She heard Jacob commanding that she breathe, and felt his heavy hand slamming on her back. She jolted, coughing up more seawater and fully resurfacing. She was alive. She was on the beach, curled on her side, remembering how to breathe.

"She's back," a second voice said. And Bella's relief to be alive curdled instantly: Sam.

"C'mon, Bella, sit up." Jacob coaxed her gently, propping her up like a doll. He was intent upon her, but her own vision was unfocused. She had found what she had been looking for: in the twilight of death, her brain had pulled Edward back completely. It had made a flash comparison, reconciling life with him and her current situation. As her mind worked, Jacob kept patting her back and vigorously rubbing her skin, working circulation back into her body.

Edward had drawn her out, nourished her creative and critical mind. He had made her more Bella. When he rejected her she had rejected herself as well. Jacob was a healing balm, patching up her rough spots. He got her working again, shined her up, and even made her laugh—but she had lost so much ground. She used to read books, devour movies, be enthralled by music. She used to take interest in the world around her, and Edward had encouraged her to do that.

She did love Jacob, and she was unquestionably attracted to him, they could probably live a passable life together. The world would close itself off to Bella, and she would accept this sacrifice. Eternity would narrow itself to a small tribe in Washington state, and time would return to the present. She would have to give up the worldliness of the vampires: their ancient history, their globe-trotting and culture sampling. She would immerse herself in a mono-culture, and be happy with that.

Her eyes focused on a funny sight drifting on the waves: fire floating on water. But this was too dark for fire, it absorbed light and oozed red. It was a premonition, her brain still foggy from the lack of oxygen and the near-death enlightenment. Would she choose fire or water? Sam was right, she could not hold both in her being. She blinked slowly, the action feeling more difficult than it should, her head still echoing sound, and she turned to Jacob.

"Can you get up?" He asked her. She nodded, and he put an arm around her, lifting her onto her feet. Her sweatshirt was gone, thrown back to the water when it was dragging her down, and she shivered in her black t-shirt. She felt the fire of his skin break through her clothes, rekindling her own heat, reminding her that she was not dead at all.

"You saved me?" She whispered, her voice apparently missing. There was a horrible sensation in her throat, as though it had been scoured by an over-zealous cleaning woman.

"I have to get back to the hospital," Sam said, apparently satisfied by Bella's condition. Jacob nodded, not really paying attention, and helped Bella move towards the truck. Her feet barely touched the ground, but he knew she would struggle if he tried to carry her outright.

"I heard you screaming. I was chasing Victoria but she got into the water, and vamps have the upper hand there, so I ditched her. I'm so pissed at you, Bella. Why did you jump off that cliff? Didn't you _see_ the hurricane coming? Didn't I promise I would go with you?"

They were too many questions for her to answer without a voice, and she treated them as rhetorical. Jacob made sounds of choked exasperation to himself, clucking and grumbling, shifting between anger and gratitude. She smiled to herself, enjoying his orchestration. Then Bella remembered the strange thing Sam had said.

"Hospital?" She scratched, a raw squeak breaking through the rasp.

"You need to go to a hospital?" Jacob asked, alarmed. Bella shook her head and made a pathetic motion with her hand, _before_. After a beat Jacob understood and his worry shifted to something else, something dark that Bella didn't like.

"Oh," he said, staring straight ahead. They still had a long way back to the truck, he was contemplating slinging Bella over his back despite her objections. "Harry Clearwater is in the hospital. Bella," he paused, "he had a massive heart attack. A lot of bad stuff is happening right now, bad enough for us to ignore Victoria for the next few hours."

Shaming, liquid relief filled Bella, mingling with the horror of Harry's situation. She was again vibrantly aware of the miracle that she was alive. Harry was one of Charlie's best friends, and like an uncle to her. She had taken him for granted, assumed that when things calmed down he would still be around to talk about fish and his children. She remembered being irritated when she had called him, asking about Jacob. He had told her about his heart problems, but he was Harry—he was too strong to succumb to something so minor. She had ignored it, and now…

"Is he…?" her voice made the questioning intonation, but the clarity of her consonants was missing. Jacob seemed to understand well enough,

"They were trying to restart his heart when the ambulance came, but that's all I know until I phase back or get home." He gave her a look, "We'll get there faster if you let me carry you." Bella nodded without hesitation, glad to let the warmth wrap around her, remind her that her own heart was beating. They reached the truck quickly, and Bella felt a confusing reluctance to be set back down.

"C'mon, we'll get you home and dry you off. They'll have news on Harry's condition there."

* * *

><p>Bella felt mute. As soon as Jacob set her on her feet and climbed into the driver's side she felt the chill of the wind, it was like the patient cold floor waiting outside a warm bed. She slid over the seat, tangling her wet arms around his, resting her head on his shoulder. He was only wearing cut offs, but he radiated heat. She realized that his pants had been wet from the ocean when they were on the beach, but they were already dry. He didn't say anything about her burrowing into his skin, but put an arm around her, giving her better access to his heart-center.<p>

She coughed when her lungs filled with too much air and seized with the strain, but besides that the trip was quiet. Jacob didn't complain about the speed of the truck, even though they were both agitated to hear about Harry—they also didn't want to rush towards bad news. Jacob kept his driving even, reluctant to shift gears and have to let go of Bella. She fell asleep.

The half of her closest to Jacob was mostly dry by the time they reached the house, but her back and feet and hair were still soggy. She could feel grit in her clothes and a tightness to the skin on her face. The cold swept around her when Jacob let go, downshifting and parking the truck. She was exhausted, not like before when it had just been lack of sleep. She had died a few times over today, and been reborn violently with each heart beat. As the two giants lumbered out of the truck, she looked over at Jacob, six inches taller than her, strong and beautiful as a tree. And she saw that his beauty was marred by similar exhaustion: rings darkening under his eyes, building the beautiful contrast in the whites and blacks of his eyes. His swagger had crumpled, the shoulders curling over again. His cropped hair made him look naked and vulnerable—a sheep freshly shorn.

Bizarrely, from her limping and sputtering body, Bella felt the urge to care for and protect Jacob. He felt young again to her, vital and precious. He was mortal, despite all his super powers. She didn't know how werewolves fared under water, but she guessed that if the storm had been bad enough he might have gone under beside her. They may have both died. Would he ever admit that to her? The house was dark, empty and unwelcoming. Nevertheless, Jacob asked, "Hello?" as they entered. No response.

Bella managed her way to the futon in the make-shift living room, curling up on top of it. Even if she weren't feeling the chill of the ocean return, she would have to curl up to fit on the little sofa. Five and a half feet wide was too small for Bella, and impossible for Jacob. He came into the living room, tossing her some pilled and ragged hand-me-downs.

"These were short on me, but they're dry." He said, and Bella could hear how tired he was. She remembered all the hours without Jacob—hours that he spent running as a wolf.

"I'm not moving," she croaked, having sucked enough saliva to get her vocal folds working again. The sound wasn't pretty and it hurt like hell, but at least she could communicate again. Jacob turned around and was back with an old applesauce jar filled with water. Bella managed to sit up enough to grasp and drink the whole thing. He filled it up again and screwed the top back on. As Bella collapsed back down on the futon he said,

"Hold on, let me fix that for you." And he lifted the folding contraption, turning it from couch to bed. "There, now you can stretch out," he said, slumping down on the floor with his back to the frame. He let out a sigh and smeared his hand across his face, a mannerism he seemed to have developed recently.

"Keep me warm," Bella said in her breaking voice, just loud enough for Jacob to be sure he had heard right. Warily, he stood and lay down, unwilling to make any presumptions. But Bella pulled him around her like a coat, draping one arm over her stomach and tucking the other under her head, facing away from him. She relaxed, her breathing slowing and her body soaking in the warmth of Jacob's nearness.

"Bella?" Jacob asked quietly, but she didn't respond. She was already asleep. He decided that sounded like a good enough idea and let himself finally let go of consciousness.

* * *

><p>Bella woke up before Jacob, hearing a car pull into the dirt driveway. She was aware of a few things: she was still alive, and extremely thirsty, and Jacob was closer to her than was comfortable. She stretched out her body, creating a small amount of space between her and Jacob.<p>

It had the desired effect and Jacob woke up. Bella pretended to be asleep to save him from embarrassment, and Jacob jumped out of the bed with a quite swear, then put a blanket over Bella. If she had truly made her mind up about Jacob, then it would take some patience and forgiveness to get used to his human body; Edward never had those sorts of surprises.

She heard voices and Jacob was greeting Sam and Billy in the kitchen. Bella decided to wake up, and when the three men came into the living room she couldn't help but glance at Jacob, who had apparently calmed down. Then her eyes flit to Billy's face, and she knew the news that need not be voiced. Her hand flew to her mouth, and with a sharp intake of breath she was reminded that her body had recently survived drowning. Again came the perverse relief that she was alive, and the wallowing shame that Harry Clearwater was not. She coughed violently, fumbling with the lid on the applesauce jar, needing water.

"Charlie will be leaving the hospital soon. He's helping Sue make arrangements." Billy, so small in his wheelchair between the formidable forms of Sam and Jacob, controlled the situation. He was still a man of charisma and strength, and Bella felt sorry for all her bad thoughts against him. Even Sam looked forgivable in the light of grief.

"You ready, Bella?" Jacob asked. He would drive her home in the truck and then run back. It was a familiar story, but the characters were new. She nodded, taking the jar of water with her and managing a few deep gulps before standing. The action was difficult, and she felt her balance teeter before returning. Her head hurt in the same way it had when she had finished all the champagne by herself. Jacob put an arm around her shoulders and led her to the truck. There was death in the shadows and the light, death in the crack of her feet on the brittle ground, and in the slow start of her truck's engine. Everything was a reminder: you are alive, Harry is not.

It felt right to curl against Jacob again in the car. He was alive, burning and throbbing. He reminded Bella that she was not a corpse, despite the events of the day. Over the grumble and shake of the truck she managed to start a conversation.

"I'm so sorry," she said, her voice scratchy but working. Jacob was silent, waiting for her to explain.

"I've been screwed up and crazy, and you've stuck by me. I just wanted the rush, and I wasn't thinking clearly. Now…" she kept her head down, "now I am ashamed and grateful to be alive. Ashamed because I hurt you so much, and because Harry…" isn't, she finished in her head.

"Does this mean your mid-life crisis is ending?" Jacob asked, his voice quiet.

"It means I want to live," she said. The conversation had started so late in the ride that they were already approaching her house. "I don't want to hurt you anymore, Jake." He killed the engine, sitting in the dark of the driveway, and Bella kept her head to his shoulder, too scared to look him in the face. Jacob's rough, callused hand cupped her chin, forcing her to sit up and look at him. A part of her knew she would hurt Jacob no matter what. She could keep rejecting him and breaking his heart, or she could accept his love and physicality. He deserved full reciprocation, and it hurt her to look at the hope in his eyes. But she had to make a decision, and she wanted to live and feel alive through Jacob.


	18. Like Hitting A Wall, But Good

_**Author's Note:** So that was my first pathetic attempt at a cliff hanger. Did it work? I prefer resolution, myself. Also, these updates will come a little slower because I am deep within the mire of Harry Potter. That's right, I'm reading it for the first time and I just finished The Half-Blood Prince. There was some weeping in the bathtub after that. WE NOW RETURN YOU TO OUR REGULARLY-SCHEDULED PSYCHOLOGICAL DYSFUNCTIONS!_

* * *

><p><em>"It means I want to live," she said. The conversation had started so late in the ride that they were already approaching her house. "I don't want to hurt you anymore, Jake." He killed the engine, sitting in the dark of the driveway, and Bella kept her head to his shoulder, too scared to look him in the face. Jacob's rough, callused hand cupped her chin, forcing her to sit up and look at him. A part of her knew she would hurt Jacob no matter what. She could keep rejecting him and breaking his heart, or she could accept his love and physicality. He deserved full reciprocation, and it hurt her to look at the hope in his eyes. But she had to make a decision, and she wanted to live and feel alive through Jacob.<em>

"Bella," he whispered, sliding his hand into her gnarled, salty curls. Why now, she wondered, why had death been the catalyst for this action? Jacob pressed his lips to her hairline, breathing in and building the courage to put his lips where he had wanted to for so long. When he whispered her name again, this time by her ear, Bella's body gave an involuntary jolt: alongside Jacob's warm voice was the real, immediate voice of Edward. _Bella_.

Jacob hesitated, and when Bella tilted her head Edward's voice came back, clear and loud: _Be happy_. She whimpered at the sound of it. It hurt her, grabbing at the raw nerves and sharp-edged pieces of her insides. Jacob drew back,

"Bella, what is it?" He asked, the hope dying in his eyes. Then his eyes focused on something beyond Bella and he turned in his seat, quickly re-starting the engine and swearing.

"What?" Bella asked, startled and confused by his reaction. Was he kidnapping her? Jacob was already pulling the truck out of the driveway, straining the engine to speed up.

"What is it?" Bella asked again, more hysteria in her voice.

"Vampire." Jacob said angrily. Bella whirled in her seat, just in time to see what Jacob had seen: an expensive car in her driveway. Bella didn't know anything about the make of that car, she had never looked under its hood, but she recognized it immediately. She opened her mouth to protest but Jacob was talking again.

"I smelled it. Not at first, I think there's only one."

"It's not Victoria!" Bella finally shouted, "It's not Victoria, it's Carlisle! Jacob, stop the truck! Stop!" Her voice gave out with a painful crack and squeak, catching Jacob's attention. He pulled the truck over, staring at her with a wild expression. She was coughing and choking, her throat hurting again.

"It's Carlisle's car," she whispered hoarsely between coughs.

"It's a trick, Bella," Jacob said, but there was alarm in his voice—he was worried she was right. Bella shook her head violently, her voice cracking, "Bring me back!" She insisted.

"I can't protect you on Cullen territory," Jacob said, staring at her. "I can't go with you. I have to tell the others. Come with me, Bella, back to where I can protect you."

"No, Jacob." She croaked, putting as much emphasis into her broken voice as she could manage. They stared each other down. Finally, Jacob slammed his fist on the wheel, swearing again—the other wolves had colored his vocabulary.

"Drive yourself." He fumed, jumping out of the car and disappearing before Bella could protest. Bella tried to find his shape in the shadows, but he was gone. Her regret at having angered him was immediately overwhelmed by the secret and dangerous hope welling up in her body. Carlisle's car. She calmed herself, carefully turning around the truck and driving back to her house. Just Carlisle, she told herself, stuffing down images of _the others_. Her hands shook and she fumbled trying to turn the key to kill the ignition. It might be a trick. Victoria might be more clever than they had thought. But she had to know. She prepared the house key and jumped out of the truck onto wobbly legs, half-running, half-staggering her way to the front door.

She opened the door to the dark house, her shaking hand missing the light switch. As she fumbled, her brain made a connection: the red flame on the water was real, but it hadn't been flame. Jacob had said he had chased Victoria into the water. Victoria has red hair. Victoria got into Forks. The lights turned on without Bella finding the switch.

* * *

><p>They screamed simultaneously, but Bella's was cut short by coughing and choking. Still sputtering, Bella lunged at Alice, bringing her into a painful hug—it was like hitting a wall, but good. Bella hugged the wall, clinging to the marble cold and the confirmation that her muted memories were true. The beauty was real, the skin was real. When she pulled back enough, Bella noticed that the eyes were the wrong color, and Alice lifted a dainty wrist to her nose, hiding a tight cough.<p>

"Oh!" Bella remembered, stepped back and apologizing, "I forgot, I'm so sorry." But Alice was shaking her head,

"No, it's my fault. I shouldn't have come here this thirsty." Then she made a show of clearing her throat and said, "Explain to me how you are still _alive_?" There was a tone of accusation to the question that made Bella feel small and young. She immediately understood what Alice must have seen.

"It was recreational," She offered, swallowing to try and soothe her burning throat.

"Recreational _suicide_?" Alice demanded, anger taking over now that the relief had passed.

"No, no," Bella coughed, then held up a hand, indicating she needed a minute. She rushed to the kitchen, hating to let Alice out of her sight—afraid it was a delicious hallucination. But she needed some help if she was going to talk. She gargled olive oil, which was gross, but which felt really, really good. Alice wandered in slowly, watching Bella gargle and spit, then drink tons of water.

"I wasn't trying to kill myself," Bella finally gasped, refilling her glass. She wanted to hug Alice again, wanted to body-slam the stony vampire and feel the hard, resisting, _real_ flesh.

"Oh, sure. You jump off hundred-foot cliffs into swirling black water fully-clothed for fun," Alice ranted.

"Didn't you see me get pulled out of the water?" Bella asked, honestly confused. Alice's visions were subjective, but Jacob had definitely decided to save her.

"You were pulled out? By whom?" Bella drank down more water before explaining.

"Jacob Black saved me. It was recreational but there was a storm coming by and the water was more dangerous than I thought." It was a lie she would tell to herself and believe, and so it came out more convincingly than usual.

"Jacob Black?" Alice asked, cocking her head. He was supposed to be gone. Her nose wrinkled. "Bella, you smell _atrocious_!"

"Well I did nearly drown today," Bella admitted, unsure why that would affect her smell but knowing that vampires were sensitive. Perhaps to a vampire the smell of death was palpable. But Alice was muttering strangely to herself. With a short laugh she said, "Impossible," and then tilted her chin up, addressing Bella.

"Who were you fighting with before you came back?"

"In the truck?" Bella asked stupidly, suddenly embarrassed to bring the memory of Jacob into her short time with Alice. She had been about to do something with Jacob which she would have immensely regretted in front of Alice, the sister of her true love. But they weren't supposed to come back. Bella shifted nervously, sitting down at the dark kitchen table.

"That was Jake again," she said. "He was dropping me off."

"In your own truck? Is he still out there? Why couldn't I see him?" thoughts were flitting behind Alice's eyes and Bella wondered if she already knew.

"He can run home pretty fast. He's… a werewolf."

Alice gasped loudly, standing abruptly and then flinching at the sudden intake of Bella's smell into her petite nostrils. She turned away, composing herself. When her eyes met Bella's they were scolding.

"Isabella Swan! We leave you alone and you find _werewolves_ to keep you company? Do you have any idea how irresponsible and dangerous they are? You could—" the phone rang, and although Alice tried to keep up her harangue, Bella answered the phone quickly and Alice dropped her voice.

"Hello?" She asked, expecting Charlie from the hospital.

"I just wanted to make sure they hadn't gotten you," the voice said bitterly. It was Jacob. That was fast.

"I'm fine. It's just Alice," Bella turned her eyes to look at Alice and the pretty vampire's face dropped, recognizing Bella's unasked question.

"Just me," Alice confirmed in a soft voice. She had brought no one else with her. Bella turned her back to Alice, unable to look at the familiar visage without tears welling.

"Well, you tell that bloodsucker to remember the treaty or God help me I'll—"

"Cool it, Jake. She's my friend."

Alice snorted derisively, "Don't get him too angry, Bella. He might kill a bystander." Bella shushed her.

"Listen I have to go," Bella said.

"Fine." The phone died and she hung up. Bella turned around, steeling herself for the bittersweet pleasure of Alice's company.

"Werewolves are the least of my problems right now," Bella began, sitting down. Alice followed suit, and before Charlie could come home Bella had explained about Laurent and Victoria, and how it was affecting the Quileute tribe. Then she explained Harry Clearwater's death today, which put a strange taste to reality and put everyone on edge.

"Victoria is _here_?" Alice asked rhetorically. She was distant, thinking and still. It unnerved Bella—what if Alice would leave her?

"Please don't go tonight," Bella begged. "I've had a really tough day. Stay the night. It would make Charlie so happy, and he's not having an easy time either."

"Charlie?" Alice asked, eying Bella. Her gaze was scrutinizing, and suddenly Bella felt weak and naked. She must look insane to Alice—her hair was in heavy, salted curls and her clothes were ragged and loose on her thinner body. She had gained weight after Jacob got her eating again, but now she was down to 185 lbs, "one-derland" as the women on TV called it. She could only guess at how gaunt and haggard her features looked to this beautiful woman. It may have been Bella's pathetic appearance which swayed her, because Alice agreed to stay.

When Charlie came home Bella barely heard him enter. She and Alice were preparing the couch, to make it look like Alice would sleep there. Alice looked up first and Bella followed her gaze: Charlie was slow in his movements, tired, and he had a distant look in his eyes. His brows knit in confusion over Alice.

"Hey, Dad. Alice was in town and she wanted to visit, I asked if she could spend the night."

"Mr. Swan, I am so sorry for my abominable timing. If I had known I would have just left a note." Bella hoped that this wasn't true. She didn't want to resent Harry's death for potentially driving away Alice, it was a petty and cruel thought to have.

"Alice you are always welcome in this house," Charlie was still dazed but sincere, "Please, you can still call me Charlie. You and the Doctor have been so good to my Bella," there was an emotion in Charlie's voice that made it sound like he might cry. He cleared his throat.

"I'm going to bed, you girls," he said, heading up the stairs.

* * *

><p>Bella headed to the kitchen to cough something into the sink.<p>

"My _God_, Bella, what have you _done_ to yourself?" Alice asked in real horror. Bella had gone from scratchy, dry throat to snorting and coughing thick phlegm. Drowning was not sexy. She wondered if maybe she should see a doctor, but no amount of phlegm would ever pry Bella from Alice.

"I'm okay," she coughed, bringing forth another creature from the black lagoon.

"Ew." Alice sniffed. The gross body fluids had eased the tension of their first encounter, and when Bella sat down she asked,

"Is he... Okay?"

Alice gave her a look, contemplating her response and obviously disturbed by Bella's present appearance.

"He's fine," she said. "Bella, I really think it is a mistake for me to stay here."

"No!" Bella shouted desperately, unable to hold back her fear. "Oh, Alice please don't leave. Not yet! He erased _everything_! Sometimes I can't remember what was real." Bella felt hiccuping sobs press at her throat, just beneath the bolus of mucus. It had been a hell of a day.

"It's okay, it's okay," Alice calmed her, dragging the six-foot girl into her lap on the couch, "I'll stay the night. I'm real for now."

This did not reassure Bella, but she did calm down. When she woke up it was morning and she had been tucked into the couch. She mentally swore at herself-she lost all that precious time with Alice _sleeping_. What an oaf. Then she heard the voices of Alice and Charlie in the kitchen. They were talking about her.

"You said you wanted to get her into therapy?" Alice asked, and from the light clink of mugs she could guess that Charlie had been distracted by the percolator. She heard him sit down heavily.

"It was terrible," he said gruffly, "Whatever that boy did to her, she acted like he'd died. For a few months she was near catatonic and it just shook me so bad. But she refused help. And she's too old for me to order her around.

"Then Jacob Black came along and took a shining to her. I think it was because he missed his big sisters, but around Valentine's Day it became clear that he was appreciating some of the changes Bells's been making."

"The weight loss, you mean?" Alice asked. Bella wondered if she were politely eating as well.

"She turned her life around. She's running all the time and building muscle. Not exactly what I'd imagined in a daughter but I'll take it. There was a fight with Jake, though. She's just not ready, and I stand behind her on that. But if he's smart, and I think he is, then he'll wait for her." Charlie was clearly telling Alice that Bella had moved on, and warning her to keep Edward away.

"I came alone, passing through on a trip," Alice reassured him, "I realize now it may have been a mistake," she kept her voice subdued. "My family is scattered, and Edward is in South America. There's no real chance of him coming back." It hurt Bella to hear about Edward, to hear that he was living a life away from her. It hurt to know that he was surviving, without her.

"It's a real shame to lose you and the doctor," Charlie said earnestly, "but if it means I get my daughter back then it's for the best."

"How will you be spending the day, Charlie?" Alice asked, shifting the conversation. He mentioned the funeral preparations and how the Clearwaters were all torn up. They had friends and family to help but Charlie felt obligated to be there as well. He assured Alice she could stay as long as she needed and she thanked him. Bella guessed that was her cue to wake up.

She waved at the two of them, grabbing a mug of coffee and then heading out to spit off the porch. The chilly air felt good on her face and she missed running. She had to get out of the house, just for a minute, to collect herself. Edward existed, and he existed without her.

Alice was beside her and with a bizarre rumble she stuck out her chest and projected a slick, soft yellow ball of scrambled eggs from her mouth. Then she bent over like a teapot and poured the coffee out of her mouth.

"Thought I might join you," she murmured. They chatted uselessly, keeping away from the subjects Bella had overheard. Bella tried to talk about school and work but when Alice asked about old peers from her classes Bella shamefacedly admitted she hadn't paid them any attention. She had gotten so wrapped up in herself that she'd forgotten about the world around her.

Alice's face tightened.

"There's an empty space coming for you," she said. "It's one or more of those wolves. I need to hunt anyway."

"You're going?" Bella asked.

"I'll be less than an hour, I promise. Besides, I don't want to upset you by hating your friend."

"Why do you have to hate him? You don't even know him."

"I know enough," she said flatly before slipping back inside.

"Hey, Charlie," Alice's voice sang from inside, "Bella said I could nap in her bed, I'll see you later?" Her bright voice was jarringly incongruent with the cruelty Bella had heard seconds earlier. Bella knew Alice would leave through her bedroom window, but she hated to think about Alice's reaction to her messy room.

Soon, a car showed up with Jacob and Sam Uley. Jake got out of the car but didn't move towards the house. He addressed Bella from a distance.

"Charlie wanted us to pick him up. We're running errands in Forks for Sue." There were many other words in Jacob's voice that never surfaced. Charlie came out shrugging on an old suit jacket, still wearing denim jeans but looking clean in a tie.

"It's all right, Jake. My car's fine, it must have just been some humidity troubled the engine. I can drive myself." Bella blazed internally, guessing that Charlie had set this up after seeing Alice's return.

"But you two talk," Charlie urged, heading to his car, "you can meet up with us later."

"Why don't you drive with me?" Sam offered, obviously wanting Jacob to come as well, but intent on protecting Charlie.

"That's very kind of you, Sam. I think I will."

Sam and Jacob exchanged a look, Sam's was disapproving and Bella couldn't see Jacob's, but Sam got in the car and left them together.

* * *

><p>"I'm here on business," Jacob said, straightening, "Checking to confirm your condition and to give the bloodsucker a few reminders."<p>

She hated how militaristic his voice had become. She stepped aside,

"Come on in. I'll make more coffee." She might as well invite him in, she didn't want to be alone while Alice was gone. He followed but hung back.

"Coffee?" Bella asked, heading to the kitchen.

"Sam just wanted me to deliver a message. I shouldn't stay longer."

"Fine," Bella was getting angry with his cold formality, "What?"

"We can't protect you and look for Victoria and take care of the Clearwaters. The vampire's presence here-"

"_Alice_." Bella insisted.

"_She_ is straining our resources."

"You don't need to protect me from Alice, and she'll keep guard for Victoria while she's here."

"How long will she be here and are there any others?" His voice was militant.

"Jake. Stop acting like I'm a spy. She's my friend, she's visiting alone, and then she's leaving. Now sit down and stop being a jerk."

He had been standing in the kitchen doorway, but Bella's chastisement seemed to break some of the spell. He sat down at the table, sighing loudly and accepting a mug of coffee.

"This place reeks of her now." He brooded. At least it was his own voice, not one programmed by Sam.

"What does it smell like?" Bella asked sitting across from him.

"Like snow, but too harsh," he relaxed a little, Sam's hold weakening with distance, "It hurts my lungs and there's a fake sweetness to it. Reminds me of the flowers we'll be putting by Harry's grave."

"A bad smell then," Bella judged, sipping her mug and thinking to herself. They would never get along, the Cullens and the Quileutes. Wolf and vampire, fire and water. Then she remembered.

"Victoria was in the water when you pulled me out," she rushed suddenly.

Jacob fixed her with a hopeless look: drowning _and_ vampires?

"You were really trying to kill yourself yesterday," he said. Before Bella could protest he continued,

"She didn't attack because Sam was present. We outnumbered her. The last we saw of her she was back in Canada, we made a solid run to keep her at bay during the funeral.

"Bella," Jacob sighed, "having your leech friend over here-"

"Jacob, her name is _Alice_!" Bella shouted angrily. There was a silence in the space after her outburst. Then Jacob's voice was even.

"Alice could turn more of the children into wolves just by being here. We're still not totally sure how it works, but she could set things in motion."

It was a slap and it hurt because it was true. Bella couldn't have both of them. Alice wouldn't stay, but Jacob would if she asked him. No matter what Alice thought, Bella didn't feel endangered by him or the other wolves-even with Emily's face present in her mind. The wolves didn't hurt people the same way that the vampires had, though she dismissively wondered if Jacob would ever get deep enough under her skin to hurt that badly. He could, but only if she let him near enough.

"I'm sorry," she said, sinking her hands into her hair and sighing. Feeling her chunky curls, Bella realized she must look like hell. She was never put together, never okay. She felt tears push at her eyes and turned away from Jacob.

"Listen, Bella, there's going to be a sort of wake for Harry today. I think you should go." Bella looked up, unsure of Jacob's meaning.

"Not just because we can protect you there," he began, cutting Bella off before she could protest, "but it will help. We sit around with some food and tell stories. It helps, a lot. I know you weren't as close to Harry as some of us, but you would get a lot out of the experience. And I'd like you to be there."

"I'll think about it," Bella said gently. She meant it. Alice would be back, and she would try and keep her, make her stay-but she knew it was futile. You can't make a vampire do anything. Still, she couldn't bear to cut short Alice's visit. She had already missed so much of it.

"Let me take a shower and think it over," she said, feeling weight and exhaustion settle over her like a dusting of grime. It seemed she could never sleep enough.

"Have you eaten?" Jacob asked. Bella shook her head, she had forgotten to make her own breakfast and Charlie had only made enough eggs for himself and Alice.

* * *

><p>"Go shower," Jake said, standing, "I'll make something for you." She was grateful for the kindness, though she knew accepting his offer was itself a form of generosity. It was a different sort of love to let him help her.<p>

She nodded and went upstairs, the shower taking a little longer than she had anticipated, but the hot water felt so good. It was so hot that it felt cold on parts of her body: bright flames activating her nerves without any clear signal. Then she had trouble getting her hair really clean. She found weird grit in her belly button and grimaced as she moved folds of skin around to clean out all the sand. Regardless of her pride in her strength, she still hated looking at her body. She shaved her armpits and legs, carefully working around the scab from her tussle with Embry.

She chose a long wrap skirt that Alice had made her. It was a somber color, falling to her feet. She could finally wear it because Alice was temporarily back, and it was useless fighting memories of Alice now that she was prancing around Forks. She also wore the long-sleeved green blouse Alice had made, and it felt strange to Bella to wear clothes that fit properly. They had all been made to have adjustable wraps and cinches, and as she looked in the mirror she saw just how thin she had become.

The word thin was entirely relative, but even at her new weight Bella was aware of the illiac crests of her hip bones, and the curve of her waist where it clung to her rib cage. Her clavicle was as prominent as a necklace, and the long skirt made her look taller than her already intimidating height. She had muscle on her arms and legs, and strong abdominals beneath the soft tissue of her drooping stomach. Yet even the parts of her that were stretched out looked to be healing. Maybe her body would reabsorb the extra skin-there wasn't that much of it, just enough to cause folds, droops and jiggles where she didn't want them. An eighteen-year-old with cellulite. She sighed into the mirror and put on a pair of pearl stud earrings.

She hadn't dressed up since her birthday and had forgotten how much she enjoyed it. Although she told herself that she was just trying to fit in with the vampire and make a good impression if she went to the wake, she also wanted to show this side of her to Jacob. He was entirely unaware that she had once been put together and aware of basic fashion. She had a girly side, and she liked it, but it had been long-forgotten.

With an awful sadness and slowness of motion, Bella realized that she felt, looked and was beautiful. Despite her fair skin and its contrast to her sharp jet hair she would never be mistaken for a glorious vampire, that sort of beauty was not hers. But Bella Swan, gazing into the mirror and knowing what was coming, knew that she was gorgeous. And a trembling piece of her knew that Jacob would see that particular beauty as well.

She came downstairs to the smell of fruit and milky oats. Jake was standing at the stove, his back to Bella, not turning around even though he must have heard her.

Suddenly everything felt like the opposite of _deja vu_. The unfolding scene was new, but could be familiar if she chose it. Perhaps it was like the premonitions Alice sees, Bella thought. She saw Jacob and the choice that was laid out before her. Choosing him would be as easy as breathing, and they would be content together. He would collect her into his arms and kiss her. She would weep and perhaps he would cry as well. There would be fights and long nights while she waited for him to return from patrol. They would make breakfast and make love, perhaps even have children who would grow up on the reservation. She would love him for he was a good man and he loved her back. Perhaps, in some way, she and Jacob had been meant for each other. Their lives would be poor, strained by his curse, but happy on their little patch of the West Coast. Another Bella would have accepted it gladly, had not a teenager from the turn of the century accidentally lived and awoken a light in Bella she would never have known otherwise.

She could never give everything to Jacob, he would always love her a little more and she would always feel indebted by that. They would not be a marriage of equals, and Bella would retain a sad grave in her heart, tending to black-eyed delphiniums and yellow roses. She would always have the scar on her skin, the faint smell of snow. And she knew that she had no choice in this matter. Bella could ask Jacob to cauterize her wounds and sanitize the festering mess she'd bound within herself. He would not be as reluctant as Edward with his body, and Bella could only guess how quickly they would find themselves in that wet embrace. She could give Jacob that, her body already screamed for it, yet there was a burial mound in Bella's heart. And she would never give up her patient watch for resurrection and return.

Jake was asking if she wanted more coffee but when he turned around his question cut out as though Sam had once again grabbed it from him. Bella stepped forward, the hem of her skirt swirling, emphasizing the trim line of her new waist.

Many dismissive phrases went through Jacob's head at that moment, cowardly lines to downplay how vulnerable he felt looking at Bella. But he had grown too much to hide himself from her anymore. He did not smirk and say she cleaned up nice. Instead, he stayed quiet, and the look on his face was painful to Bella because she recognized it all too well: it was heartache. He did not know she had made her decision, he only knew that she was not his, and it hurt him.

"I'm starving," she said to break the silence. It was true, she had not eaten since the day before and she felt weak with hunger. But Jacob only served the food, silent and waiting, and the spell was not yet broken.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Post Scriptus:<strong> Okay, I'm cliff-hanging you guys again but the next chapter will be called "The Departure From Canon". Suck on that, babies!_


	19. A Departure from Canon

They ate quietly and Bella could not be sure whether Jacob would be willing to break the clink and scratch of the light music their dishes made. She was hungry, and was glad to eat, but her stomach remained in knots and tangles knowing what was brewing, and that she had invited it upon them. Finally she sat back with her coffee, sated and unsatisfied. There was a thin veil of pain, gauzey and just beyond her body. She feared that if she moved to quickly, she would bump into this web and entangle herself in the electric-shock of it. Harry Clearwater was dead. Alice was back. Edward was decidedly _not_ back, would never come back, and should be treated as gone forever. Alice would eventually leave Forks and Bella. Jacob sat across from her, his presence clamorous, and she knew Sam was right: it could not be a dalliance. She had to submit to a future.

"Maybe Alice was right," Bella sighed, "maybe it _was_ a mistake for her to come by." Jacob watched her carefully. "I think everyone might be right," she continued. "I think that I am a magnet for disaster." She shook her head, "Jacob, I've screwed everything up. I'm in so much pain."

"Bella," he reached a hand across the table, taking her own, "you haven't done anything wrong."

She looked into his dark brown eyes. He was handsome because he was young and strong, but one day his gloss would fade. Most likely he'd end up looking like Billy. She could live with that, quite easily in fact. She knew that Jacob was available to her as a drug. She knew that if she were to say yes to him, all the pain would disappear for that blissful moment. He might be able to keep all her nightmares at bay for awhile, give her enough of a respite to recover from the recent blows that had been inflicted. They would mourn together, shivering and hot, pretending that their bodies could heal their souls.

"I hurt people simply by existing," she said solemnly, a pitiful warning.

"Then exist with _me_," he said, getting out of his chair and moving to be beside her. He knelt in order to keep eye-level, but the gesture was a mock proposal. She was the one about to make a proposition. She gave a humorless laugh,

"I nearly killed you twice yesterday. You aren't safe from me."

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"Victoria for one, she was in the water. And then the storm—you could have drown, too."

"Bella," Jacob smiled, "I'm Quileute. I could swim before I could walk. If it weren't for my aptitude for cars, I would already be taking over Dad's old fishing business. Secondly, I'm a werewolf. I'm _made_ to fight vampires, it's my _job_. I'm specifically designed to protect and save you from those very things." He took her hand, standing her up. "We're designed for each other. Everything happens for a reason." It was an argument Bella no longer bought, but one to which she would nonetheless concede.

"Jacob," Bella said, standing up to voice a question she knew he wouldn't be able to answer. She had not worn high-heeled shoes in months, and it was alarming to suddenly be almost as tall as Jacob, to see him eye-to-eye, "Why do you pursue me like this? Is it because I'm your last shot? Sam says you resist imprinting?" He was taken aback by her question and then immediately angry, but not violently so.

"Sam." He shook his head and said, "I thought the flavor of his thoughts were off. No, Bella. I don't want you because you are my only option. And I don't want to imprint, even though sometimes it sounds like that would be easier," he said fixedly, looking at her, "I _choose_ you, Bella, with all my free will. I wanted you before all this happened, and now I need you."

He closed the space between them, sighing in Quileute. There was a word he used that Bella recognized. It sounded like _ha-ach,_ with a slight hesitation in the vowel. Billy used it when he answered the phone, or commented on delicious food. Sometimes they used it to remark that something was beautiful, a pun on _bella_.

"Yesterday, before we were interrupted, I think you were about to admit that you feel the same." She was on the cusp of acquiescence. She tilted her chin up, this was the only option left to her. It might go sour one day, but she hoped that day was far away for Jacob. This pain would be manageable, and it was distant—not crippling and immediate like the web clinging to her raw skin. Her eyes closed, she would let him sear away the tangled mess she'd gotten herself into, but she couldn't bring herself to look in his earnest eyes.

She felt Jacob's nose brush against hers. He took the slowness of a man who knew he had won, who did not feel hurried. Lips brushed her cheek and eyebrow, her neck. And then the phone rang. He hesitated, and she could feel his breath on her skin, he was so close already. The phone rang again and when Bella whispered, "It's probably Charlie," her lips brushed Jacob's.

"I think he can wait," Jacob said, pressing his mouth to Bella's just as she swiveled her head. His lips smeared along her cheek and he stopped her hand with a tired smile. He could answer the phone, they could continue this afterward. Without releasing his hold on Bella, he reached over and grabbed the phone with a long arm.

"Swan residence," he said cheerily, though the look on his face barely masked irritation. Then the irritation surfaced outright but Bella couldn't hear the voice on the other end. She guessed it wasn't Charlie.

"He isn't here. He's making funeral preparations." Jacob said in exasperation, as though dismissing a telemarketer. Then he hung up the phone and turned back to Bella, moving in.

"Who was it?" She asked, always curious.

"Nobody," he said, lips seeking hers, body embracing her own. It was exactly the wrong answer. Bella stepped back, out of his reach, angry.

"Who was on the phone, Jake?" He wanted to steal her back, break the curse on her with his kiss. _Just let me kiss you and then I'll tell you_, he wanted to say. But he knew that a coerced kiss from Bella would be bitter. She was so close, they were so near.

"_Doctor_ Cullen," Jacob said without hiding the sneer in his voice. "He was looking for Charlie."

"I could have talked to him," Bella said, hurt that she had missed the chance to hear that voice again. Carlisle. She had spent so many afternoons, morning, evenings with him just talking and sharing voices. She had completely forgotten his cadence, but she knew it was oddly foreign, lightly accented.

"He didn't ask for you. Bella, you said yourself it was a mistake for Alice to even come here. Look what they're doing to you," his voice was angry, "look how the idea of them hurts you." He stepped forward and took her arm, his thumb slipping under the cuff of her sleeve and pressing on her scar. "Let go of them," he said, his voice suddenly dropping and his eyes pleading.

* * *

><p>Bella nodded numbly. She couldn't let go, not really, but at least she could try. It was the sacrifice she would make for someone like Jacob. She let him draw her in again. She would let that hopeful bird die, the one that thought maybe Edward still loved her. She murmured,<p>

"I don't know how to kiss you." She couldn't bring herself to make the gesture, but she was now sure that it had to be made.

"I've been planning it for awhile," Jacob reassured her. And then he kissed her. Two lips, strips of flexible muscle, pressed together. The sensitive nerves running beneath the skin fed Bella information. This was warm and dry and careful, as though he were pressing his mouth to a soap bubble. It was short, and a little nervous. She pushed her forehead to his, letting the enormity of her decision begin to wash over her. She felt the warmth of his skin as their faces pressed together and then they kissed again.

Bella felt a pressure build in her sinuses and realized she was going to cry, but she didn't know what it meant. She had gone so long without intimate touch, starving for it, and now she could not stop drinking it in. The circumstances were familiar, the thrill of her skin and the welling desire in her sternum, but these lips were pliant and warm. There were sounds that she had not heard when kissing Edward. Jacob breathing in, the sounds that his own lips made as they tested these news kisses, the hum that came out of his throat. Two people sighing.

He drew away when he realized she was crying.

"Are you okay?" He asked. She nodded, though it couldn't possibly be true. What had she done? Jacob looked away from her and said in a louder voice,

"I can smell you."

Alice revealed herself. Her eyes were wide and unblinking, and they wouldn't meet Bella's own. She felt shame and covered her face, hiding from Alice, realizing Jacob's arm was still around her.

"I need to use the phone," Alice said quietly. Bella rushed away from the kitchen and sat in the living room. What had she done? She could hear Jacob approaching her and hear the sound of Alice handling the kitchen phone. Before Jacob could say anything she heard Alice utter a loud and desperate profanity, then hang up and dial a new number. There must have been another vampire on the other end because Alice spoke too quickly for Bella to understand. But it sounded angry. Then Alice hung up and called out Bella's name.

"What?" She responded immediately, "What is it?"

Alice darted into the room, ignoring Jacob who sat protectively close to Bella. Alice looked angry and dangerous, which made Jacob stand up.

"He thinks you're _dead_!" She shouted at Bella, "This mongrel told him you were _dead_!"

"Don't yell at Bella," Jacob shouted back.

"Get out of here! You're muddying me up with your stupidity!"

"I'm not leaving until Bella orders me to go," Jacob growled, his face unfamiliar with hatred.

"Go, Jacob," Bella said hollowly. He had not expected this. He began to protest, sure that Alice was performing some sort of mind-trick on her, but she ignored him, turning to Alice.

"What do you mean? What is going on?" She asked in a shivering voice, stunned and frightened.

"He had a freak click. Edward did. He is a zillion miles away yet the _one_ _vision_ he taps into is the one I tried to keep secret! Only Jasper knew that you jumped, and he was on his way to tell the others until I called him yesterday, stopped him. The others didn't know. He called around, called everyone, but Jasper's out of range and he couldn't know I'm here." Her eyes were black and her body rigid.

"I don't know what happened. I don't—" she stamped her foot so hard that Bella heard the wood crack, "This beast told him you're dead when he called. Why didn't I get my own cell phone?" Alice muttered to herself.

"Didn't you call him back?" Bella asked.

"Yes. A stranger answered: he's dumped the phone. He's going to ask the Volturi to kill him. That dramatic son of a bitch. He called the house to say 'goodbye'. I—I…" she growled in anger and frustration and Jacob made another move to protect Bella.

"I'm okay, Jacob! Alice," Bella's voice was calmer than she felt. Maybe it hadn't really sunk in, "Alice, what can we do?" Alice loved planning as much as Bella did. She crouched down, eye-level to Bella and counted off on her fingers.

"Three things can happen now, Bella, he's already on his way to Italy." Jacob was cursing, angry and stubborn. Bella whirled on him,

"Jacob! Shut up or leave!" He stopped, breathing hard, controlling his anger. He wanted to kill Alice—Bella could feel that and see it. It would have made her shrink except that she knew Alice wanted to kill him, too. Sometimes, Alice even wanted to kill Bella. She had to accept this dysfunction in her relationships if she wanted to get anywhere with these two.

"What are our options?" Bella asked, talking over the loud sound building in her head.

"The Volturi say yes, and kill Edward before we can get to Italy," Alice said, and Bella hoped she was starting with the worst possible scenario.

"This is unlikely. Edward has gifts that they would be reluctant to squander—but Aro is capricious and might agree for the humor or romance of the situation. If they do turn him down, he will have to force their hand. The branches split again here: he could simply lift a car or kill a human in daylight, then the Volturi would have to strike him down quickly. The only rule they effectively enforce is secrecy, and it would be a capital crime to bring vampire attention to their city."

Bella remembered this. Edward had contemplated this death before, had even told her of it—but the circumstances were always in her absence. Perhaps, somehow, she could stop him from this suicide. Bella looked at Alice, urging her on. She had forgotten Jacob was beside them.

"If he is quick, then he will go straight from the Volturi to the populace, forcing them to kill him within an hour of declining his request. We would not be able to reach him in time."

Bella was feeling antsy—shouldn't Alice be explaining this while they hurtled toward an airport in Carlisle's fast car? But Alice was clearly blocking Bella's path, keeping her on the couch.

"The third option," Alice continued, "and there isn't much hope here either," she qualified, "is that he indulges his dramatic side and plans a more elaborate death. Depending on the complexity or timing of his act, we might have time to reach Italy. But even if we successfully intervene, stopping Edward before he forces the Volturi's hand, we ourselves are in danger."

"What do you mean?" Bella asked.

"And why do you say 'we'?" Jacob growled, "Why must Bella go?"

"I have to go, Jacob!" Bella shouted, telling him to shut up with her eyes.

"You don't have to go," Alice said, "but it would be difficult to persuade him that you are not dead without evidence. The danger lies in the Volturi: our relationship with them is complicated. Carlisle used to belong to their coven, but has since started his own and as far as we know, we are the second-largest coven in the world. They don't like competition, they harbor grudges, and as I have said before they are capricious and difficult to predict. Furthermore, you are a human. In the midst of vampires, you are little more than a portable snack or oddity. They may spare us, but not you, Bella."

"I don't care. If it saves Edward—"

"No!" Jacob shouted. "I am speaking for everyone when I say you cannot kill yourself for that bloodsucker!"

"Jacob, I swear to God if you don't shut up or get out I will never speak to you again."

"You're right," He said angrily, bringing his face close to Bella's, "if you die at the hand of these freaks then you will never speak to anyone again! You can't go!"

"I'm going," Bella stood but Alice reached out a hand to stop her, which surprised Jacob.

"Wait," Alice said, "Bella, calm down and think this through."

"I am calm enough," Bella said. "I've never wanted Edward to kill himself. It doesn't matter what he has done to me, he does not deserve that death. I have a passport, and some money to go towards my plane ticket. We're losing time, Alice."

Alice looked at Bella and then nodded, stepping aside. Jacob stood in her way and Bella nearly hit him.

"Jacob!" She shouted.

"Don't do this," he asked, his voice so low and weak that it startled Bella. She could deal with his anger and his rage, but his vulnerability stung her.

"This isn't about you." She said, moving past him and up the stairs. She seized the first bag she saw, threw her wallet and passport in it along with various clothes and a toothbrush. She was back downstairs within a minute. Jacob stared at her evenly, helpless and seething. Alice was on the phone getting Esme to book her and Bella the next flight to Milan. Bella wrote a note on a piece of paper for Charlie,

_Dad: Emergency. Had to leave for a few days. Don't come looking for me, I love you. Bella._

It was brutal but she couldn't waste her minutes on eloquence. She turned to Jacob who was nailed to the floor, taking in the events and broadcasting his disapproval.

"Protect Charlie." She ordered, heading out the door with Alice. Jacob followed, seizing her by the wrist and pulling her close.

"Please," he said, "you can't go back to him. He's killing you again."

"I can't let him kill himself, Jacob. You cannot ask me to do that."

"Then come back to me," he said, his black eyes boring into her own, "Stop his insanity but don't let him drag you down. Come back to me afterward." Bella didn't like making promises she couldn't keep.

"I have to go," she said.

"Kiss me goodbye," he said. Bella was flustered and angry; she knew Alice was watching. She knew they would have to run through the airport. But she did love Jacob—just not the way he wanted. She took his strong face in her hands, the wide, handsome cheekbones jutting into her palms, and moved to kiss him on the forehead. But he broke her grip and stole the kiss, full on her mouth with everything he had. He pushed his body against hers, trying to remind her what she was leaving behind. Bella broke free and staggered down the steps, unable to look him in the eye.

"Goodbye," she said, getting into Carlisle's car with Alice. The engine started, and over the quiet combustion Bella heard the sound of fabric ripping. When she looked at the porch steps she saw Jacob's clothes still fluttering to the ground, and a half-torn sneaker discarded.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note<strong>**:** Shit just got real._


	20. In which someone finally slaps Bella

_**Author's Note/ Pathetic attempt at a warning: **All hail to Smeyer who, regardless of personal affections, is the mother and creator of the Twilight Universe. For this she must be respected and revered. But from here on out there's gonna be a lot more swearing, drinking, and some angsty-pants-bursting (Okay, maybe I'll save the pants-bursting for _Semper Augustus_) than she had originally intended. Sorry, Smeyer, but your characters need a stiff drink (among other things). Honestly, I think it's pretty tame so far, but there will be underage drinking *gasp!* to follow._

* * *

><p>It was hell. Bella knew that this thought had been voiced many times before regarding airports and travel, but this was different: she was not using hyperbole. Renee's flirtation with a destination wedding had scored Bella a passport but her relief for her mother's indecisiveness was fleeting. Relief quickly gave way to suffocating slow motion. The hours passed as though she were running waist-deep in honey. Sometimes they ran: through the parking lots, the airport terminals, and Bella was rewarded with adrenaline coursing through her veins. But then they hit the mire. They had to wait, unmoving, immobile as time crept closer to Edward's poor decision. It was awful, feeling like every second was too slow. When they ran to catch their flight she felt as though she were actively participating in Edward's rescue. Waiting on the tarmac, waiting for the plane to get clearance, <em>this<em> was hell. She was strapped to a chair, locked in a confined space, and forced to remain still for hours on end. She was helpless.

Her knee was jiggling uncontrollably. Alice put a firm hand down.

"You're freaking me out," she said.

"Do you think we can beat him?" Bella asked, eyes wide. They had been in such a hurry and rush that neither of them had spoken more than immediate commands since they left the house. Bella had changed hastily in the car. Alice look confused by the question.

"You mean, stop him?"

"No, I mean, we have a pretty short flight, right? Just sixteen hours total you said. He still has to get to Italy—"

"Bella," Alice lowered her voice to prevent her neighbor from overhearing, "He'll get there before us. He already has a head start."

"Why didn't you go without me?" She whispered archly. "If we hadn't stayed around the house arguing then maybe you could have gotten there first!"

"He wouldn't believe me," Alice shook her head, sure of herself, "With practice I can almost lie with my thoughts. He's an emotional mess, you know how he gets. I already played that situation out a dozen times in my head and each time he just rushes faster towards death when he hears me coming."

Bella swallowed, suddenly thirsty. The pilot was chatting amiably with the flight attendants, cracking light jokes about the nice weather they were having: _The sun's out, my grandmother told me there'd be days like this_!

"What if you turned me, then we could both—"

"That isn't how it works." Alice said, silencing her. But Bella was too anxious to remain quiet. She wasn't thinking straight.

"But then we could get there faster, together."

"No," Alice said, "listen: I'm not against turning you. But the venom takes a few _days_; you'd be incapacitated. Don't you _remember_ that?" her voice was harsher than she meant it to be.

"That lasts for…days?" Bella asked, having purposefully forgotten that piece of information. She had thought she must have been on the verge, the pain had been so great when James bit her. Surely that sort of agony could not continue for an extended period of time, or so she had thought.

Her defenses against Edward were broken, and occasionally a piece of him would appear in her mind. Unbidden and seemingly unconnected from her thoughts, a fact revealed by Carlisle came to Bella: Edward's eyes had been green when he was a human.

She saw him writhing, the venom coursing through his human body. Days. Then his green eyes turned tawny and she remembered it too well: the same eyes Alice had, the same skin and bedazzle. Her breathing sped up—Edward was becoming more and more real as she let herself remember him, and it hurt more than she had anticipated because now he was on the verge of annihilation. He might successfully erase himself from Bella this time.

"We have to get him, Alice!" She said, hyperventilating. Alice put her cool hands on either side of Bella's face.

"Calm down," she commanded, "calm down right now if you want him to have a chance. The stewardess can't see you or she might delay take-off." Bella nodded and put her head close to her knees, trying to control her breathing. She couldn't jeopardize this. Her brain was free from its bonds; the edict preventing memories had been lifted and Edward was fully present. She remembered too much, all in muted detail which was just enough to sting and not enough to please.

"Alice, talk to me. Tell me what to do." She was desperate for distraction from her own head, from the suffocation of this plane on its way to New York, Paris and then Rome. They would have to quick change planes, getting them to Italy by nine-thirty the next morning. Masochistic math went through Bella's head as she broke down the various legs of their trip and then shuffled them back together: from Forks to Rome they would be traveling for twenty hours. Bella turned to Alice who had closed her eyes.

"Alice? Please, talk to me!"

"Shh, Bella, I am trying to see what is going on. I need to seek out Edward and concentrate."

"What can I do?"

"You can stay alive," Alice said with a hint of guff, "this whole thing is predicated on you _not_ being dead, so don't ruin it."

Then she blocked Bella out. Bella read everything around her, trying to busy herself with the origami instructions in the back of the in-flight magazine and solving the sudoku puzzles. She was jittery and hot but Alice remained completely still and chilly. Bella ordered a coke for herself and a rum and coke for Alice. The vampire was kind enough to open her eyes and confirm the order, and Bella swapped the drinks as soon as they were delivered.

"That's not going to help," Alice murmured. It startled Bella, who had assumed Alice was back in her trance.

"It works for other people and I don't know what else to do," Bella replied.

"I don't know what's happening to you, Bella," Alice said after a pause, opening her eyes.

"It's just a little bit and I don't know what to do and-" But Alice cut across her babbling about the rum.

"I can't see the wolves. Everything is either undecided or blank." She kept her voice casual, "How long have you been with Jacob?"

"I'm not... I haven't..." Bella shook her head, hoping the liquor would kick in fast. "That was just the one time. Just today."

"You meant it." Alice noted. "You chose him."

"I had no more options," Bella said numbly, "I had no more options." She repeated, as if convincing herself.

Alice surveyed the information in her head, wondering whether she could break in, whether she should play God. Edward's life was at stake, surely the jig was up. But what if Bella had been too badly hurt by her brother? What if she chose that dog over him? Might he not try suicide again?

"You love that creature," Alice said blankly, unable to fathom Bella's insanity.

"Jacob's not a creature. He hates his curse, which is why he hates your kind. I trust him. He's not a monster."

"You'll marry him?" Alice asked.

"Damnit, Alice!" Bella burst out before Alice could hush her. "Right now I'm just trying to keep Edward alive, okay? I don't have room for anything else."

"You'll keep yourself alive too, won't you?" Alice asked. There was a pause in which Alice turned her full clairvoyant gaze on the young woman. Something flashed, budding and gruesome in Alice's mind's eye. With a quick, deft hand, Alice slapped Bella. To Alice, it was as though she had simply patted Bella on the cheek, but the reddening flush of skin told her otherwise. "If we fail in our endeavor you will keep yourself alive, Bella Swan," Alice ordered angrily.

Bella stared at the vampire, rubbing her cheek. It felt like a punch. "Yes, of course," she muttered, afraid to incur another slap. Alice had heard it before she had, that she would give up if their plan failed. Bella held loose ice to her cheek and probed the inchoate thought.

She couldn't imagine the strength she would need to fight for her life if she let Edward kill himself over her; regardless of what Jacob had ever told her or the lies Bella had told herself, she had been ready to let herself die if this mission failed. Bella recalled her moribund leap into the churning waters and the excuses she gave surrounding them. She'd been toying with death too long, romanticizing it just like Edward was now.

Alice slumped back into her trance until the flight attendant came around again. She woke up again to ask for a second rum and coke. Bella slurped the sticky-sweet drink, feeling no effect and wondering at the star-crossed lovers. Edward was trying to kill himself and if she was honest with herself, Bella had been trying to do the same for a long time now. The vampire beside her with eyes still closed said in a low voice,

"Edward has always suffered from depression, and vampires cannot be medicated. We've all struggled to keep him on the lighter side, and when you came along we thought…" she trailed off, pinching at the bridge of her nose, rubbing her temples. She shook her head, clearing it of whatever images had bothered her, and picking up elsewhere, "He's dramatic and he's ill. Bella, what he is doing isn't beautiful and it isn't right. That's why we have to stop him. Even if you _were_ dead, he shouldn't do this to himself. Do you see why Edward shouldn't die?" She asked. Bella nodded, she believed with all her being that he should live.

"Can you turn those tables around and see it for yourself? Why _you_ also should not die?"

A sad little piece of Bella flinched at this. She was nothing compared to Edward. For the world to lose him, there would be a gaping hole. But if Bella were to slip away, it would be with a whimper.

"But he," Bella began, resigning herself to another slap, "…he is so much _more_ than me."

Alice shook her head sadly, hurt badly by this side of Bella. She was so much like her brother.

"No, Bella," She said, "No, he isn't. I know Charlie, and you are the world to him. I know that your mother loves you in her haphazard way. I know that you have a future, that there are options available for you, but they are all contingent on you _wanting to survive_."

"You can see my future?" Bella asked.

"Only when you want it," Alice answered. "You have a full life ahead of you. Even when it is blurry and indistinct, I can sense the enormity of it. You are _something_, Bella. You are a fire, please don't extinguish yourself."

A few beats passed, and Alice seemed satisfied that Bella's intentions had changed enough for the better. She picked up the in-flight phone. She was calling her family to fill them in on events. After a few minutes of humming and murmuring she looked at Bella.

"They want to talk to you," she said, "can you do that?" Bella nodded, not caring if she could handle their voices, their reality—she wanted to hear them again. They had all gathered together somewhere, waiting to hear the news. Alice paused before handing her the phone.

"I'm sorry I had to hit you, but it was the right thing to do. I won't lose two of you." Bella nodded and Alice rested a cool hand on the flush of Bella's cheek, calming the flesh.

"Bella?" The first voice was Carlisle's and Bella felt tears come to her eyes. She wondered if she could have survived better had Edward been the only one to leave. Carlisle was so reasonable, he might have eased her through the grief better.

"Carlisle, I didn't know any of this would happen. I'm so sorry—"

"Bella it is so good to hear your voice. We were worried, especially Esme."

"Can I talk to her?" Bella asked, remembering vaguely that Esme's half-death in human life had been a fall from a cliff.

"No, she is shaking her head. She is glad you are alive, but I don't think she can speak right now. Bella," Carlisle's voice was so unique—lilting and light. Her memory could never replicate the accent. Tears spilled fat and sloppy over her eyelids, "we all respect what you are doing. You are more powerful than we are right now, and we are so grateful. Know that all of our prayers are centered around you right now."

Bella gave a grim smile. Carlisle never prayed for her, or at least he had never spoken about it, afraid to proselytize too adamantly. She must really be in trouble if they were all praying now. He passed the phone off to Emmett, whose voice was huskier than she remembered.

"You can't pull them apart," he said as though he were continuing a conversation Bella hadn't been present for, "but you can burn them if you access the venom. It is highly flammable. Alice can cut into them and you can—"

"Don't listen to him, Bella," Jasper cut in, "We just wish we were there to protect you."

"Jasper? What's going on? What's wrong with Emmett?" She tried to hide her face from Alice, who was still cooling the old slap. She was squeezing her eyes tight, holding back tears and trying to keep her voice even. She hadn't heard these people in so long, and even though the connection was bad it was enough.

"He'll be fine. He's always raring for a fight, and the Volturi don't sit right with him."

"What was he saying about flammable?" She risked a sniffle, knowing the keen vampire ears would pick up on it anyway.

"Our venom is inflammable," Jasper said, changing the word on her, "but you aren't going to fight the Volturi. Emmett seems to forget that you are delicate. I'm only not there because Alice told me to stay. But Bella, my advice to you is: do not engage them. You will not win, and it isn't worth it. This is a stealth operation so no time for heroics."

"Yes, sir," Bella said softly. Jasper gave a laugh on the other end of the phone.

"Rose wants to talk to you. You want to talk to her, too?" Bella did, even though she and Rosalie had never been on good terms.

"You bring him home," Rosalie said firmly. "I never liked that bastard but he—don't let him do this. I'll kill him with my bare hands when I see him, but don't let him…" her voice faltered and the phone returned to Carlisle. If Rosalie was cracking then Bella couldn't imagine what was happening to Esme, she didn't want to imagine it.

"God be with you," he added as they said their goodbyes. It unnerved Bella, but she handed to phone back to Alice, who hung up.

"Emmett didn't sound good, and Esme wouldn't talk to me," Bella said.

"Esme tried to kill herself by jumping off a cliff when she was human," Alice said distantly, "She and Rosalie didn't fare too well in their human lives." Bella remembered that Alice hadn't either. She wondered if that was why they made such good vampires.

"Esme left her husband, a thing women were not supposed to do at that time, and had a baby on her own. It was the only love she was going to have, and it died within weeks. She'd thrown off her family, ruined herself in the eyes of society, and lost the only human she had. Sometimes we pretend she just had a bad fall while hiking, but we know the truth.

"She was brought into Carlisle's hospital, and he had seen her somewhere before. Edward was there, and he told Carlisle the truth, speaking for Esme who was too close to death to speak for herself. She wanted another chance at happiness. She and Carlisle fell for each other quickly." _Imprinting_, Bella's memory recalled. Did it happen with vampires? They seemed so monogamous, and Edward had been violently protective-until he wasn't. Until... She pushed the distant memories of Edward away. Imprinting wasn't real. Instead, she thought about doll-faced Esme crying on the other end of the phone, too much of a wreck to even speak to Bella.

Bella sure had a knack for hurting others. First Jacob and the motorcycles, now cliff-jumping and Esme. She wondered why Alice told her this story, but when she turned to ask, Alice's eyes were closed and she was concentrating on finding Edward's future again.

Bella didn't want to remember her own motives for jumping. She had lied to herself in order to lie to others more effectively, but Jacob had been the truth. She had needed to identify the missing drawer in her body, the one reserved for Edward. Once she felt the space of that absence, she would be able to choose Jacob. She had chosen Jacob. She had kissed him.

But something about her was designed for Edward, and somehow she felt that he was a chemical bound to her: making her more vivid when they were together and, conversely, draining her when he was away. There was nothing wrong with Jacob, he had no real drawbacks except for one: _he was not Edward_. If Edward did die, and she were forced to live, Jacob would be waiting. Could she hang herself around his neck, weighing him down forever with her sadness? Could he really want her, still?

But if Edward lived… if by some miracle they were able to move fast enough to steady the hand of the executioner. What then? Edward was killing himself from guilt; he was right to assume she had jumped because of him. But proving she was alive wouldn't change anything except that she'd lived. Could she take his rejection again? She had to. There was no other option.

* * *

><p>Bella stood, unsteady and raw, waiting on a foreign curb in a strange land. She felt dehydrated and sticky. Voices circled around her and she couldn't grasp any of it. She noticed that everyone was beautiful—maybe Italy was a land of vampires. But as the people approached and left she would see that their features were human, mottled with mortality and imperfection. They dressed well and held themselves erect, they exuded confidence, but their skin did not glint in the sunlight.<p>

Then an ostentatious sports car halted to a stop in front of Bella and Alice leaned over the passenger's side.

"C'mon!" She shouted, and Bella was shook from her stupor. She hopped in and they were speeding away before Bella could figure out the seat belts. Alice looked lovely. She had wrapped a scarf around her head and neck, donning Audrey Hepburn sunglasses and wearing long, calfskin leather gloves. She fit right in, and barely any of her skin showed. Bella looked down at herself. She looked like a rural American, whereas Alice looked like a movie star. She knew that most of this glamor came from her vampire identity, and Bella felt a familiar rankle of ridiculous jealousy.

"He knows that they are stringing him along. He already has decided on his alternate plan for when they deny him," Alice was talking rapidly. She was fully present with Bella and ready to fill her in on the developments over the past hours.

"It's grim luck that he's dramatic and this happens to be a holiday in Volterra. When they deny him, he will make a show of himself in front of the holiday crowds. Then the Volturi will _have_ to eliminate him."

"What will he do?" Bella asked.

"He's mostly settled on something simple and graceful. Earlier he was thinking of a bloodbath, going out with a wow-finish."

"But he couldn't do that to Carlisle," Bella guessed. Alice nodded.

"Now he is going to wait for the toll of noon, when all the crowds gather at the clock tower in the center of town, and he will present himself to the sunlight. He likes the idea of a vampire being killed by the sun, even though it will really be the Volturi killing him."

"Not a particularly funny joke," Bella muttered.

"Exactly," Alice said. She was at least glad that Bella had given up her suicide-talk.

"So we have until noon?" Bella asked, looking at the clock. This gave them two hours.

"Yes, and I can get there in half the time, except that since it is a holiday in an old Etruscan city the roads will be bottle-necked. The traffic will cut things close."

"So what's the plan?" Bella asked.

"I get you as close to the center as possible, then you jump out and run. Can you do that?"

A grotesque smile came to Bella's tired face: she had brought her toe shoes because she wore them almost everywhere now. She could run this time, not like last year when she thought she was saving her mother and couldn't make a mile without heaving. She was ready for this. Abruptly she realized it was almost exactly one year since James broke her leg.

"Yes," Bella said, "I can run. How do I get to the clock tower?"

"Follow the crowds, it is where they will all be going."

"What is this holiday anyway?" Bella asked. Alice laughed strangely, catching her off-guard.

"It is a celebration of the Saint who drove out all the vampires in Volterra."

"What?"

"It's a sort of joke among the Volturi. Centuries ago, they staged their own departure. Really, they were just cleaning up all the loose-ends and uncivilized vampires: the ones who didn't play by their rules. Then they moved underground and made their presence more of a secret. They've secured the city for themselves, a sort of enclosed garden.

"Now the celebration is more in favor of the _carabinieri _who protect the city, to congratulate them on the low crime rates. But the Volturi is even behind that—they won't stand for competition."

"Alice," Bella asked as they whizzed through the Tuscan hills. She had to look away, not because of motion sickness, but because the overwhelming beauty of the barren hills was incongruent with her fear and horror surrounding Edward's suicide.

"Alice, how do you do it? How can you live as a vampire when there is something like the Volturi out there?"

Alice gave a genuine laugh followed by a sad smile.

"Bella, the Volturi are indeed a cruel and spineless collection, tyrannizing a tiny city buried in Italy. But they are nothing compared to the depths of cruelty of humans worldwide. I'm not excusing their actions, but the real question is: how can you stand being a human?"

Bella chastized, said, "Sometimes I can't."

After some silence, Bella asked Alice to explain the Volturi.

"They are headed by a triumvirate of Aro, Caius and Marcus. The three of them have been around forever, and they founded their stronghold back when Volterra was Etruscan. They've picked up and killed off various other vampires over the centuries, usually preferring those with particular skills. Their coven is large, though no one besides the three know how many are in it. I would guess over twenty but less than sixty: certainly larger than our own.

"As you know, wild vampires are solitary, only occasionally teaming up for a mate. James' coven was unusually large. Our camaraderie has made Carlisle's coven enormous in vampire standards, though we aren't nearly as large or powerful as the Volturi. Nevertheless, they don't like us. Not to mention they know about me and Edward…" Alice's voice broke off and it took her a moment to pick up her train of thought again.

"It took a lot of convincing to stop Jasper from coming with us," she said quietly, "he would fight for me. He's quick, and he has admirable powers, but none of us would win in a fight with the Volturi. If they get a hold of us, I doubt they would allow us to leave. We are too precious to them, which is why they are reluctant to end Edward's life. At least that is in our favor."

"Why did Carlisle join up with them?" Bella asked.

"He hoped he could turn them from the inside out. He is strongly connected to the humans, and the Volturi hoped that his ability to mingle with them would work as a sort of bait. Of course, Carlisle wouldn't do anything like that. He kept trying to foster peace, or advocate that humans were worth more than food." Alice tilted her head.

"They've told him. He is making preparations for noon. It is decided."

Bella looked at the clock. They had time and Alice was driving at record speed, easily weaving past the various cars studding the highway.

"What is he doing?" Bella asked gently, wanting to imagine Edward—to see him in his last hours.

"Scouting out the best angle to emerge into the sunlight. His plan is already decided, and his last moments will be given to meditation and concentration."

"Meditation?" Bella asked. She didn't know Edward did that.

Alice shook her head in disgust, "There is a peace around him. It means he is really dangerous because he fully believes he is doing the right thing. He's lost to reasoning. I wouldn't be able to stop him. Bella, you are the only one he won't see coming and the only one who can get him."

Bella took a deep breath, letting the weight of her responsibility fall on her. She noticed that traffic was picking up and Alice had to do more weaving: they were getting close to the city.

Bella stuck her head out the window to look at the city upon a hill. There was a frustrating collection of vehicles lining the major road into the city, crawling along as various _carabinieri_ gestured cars in different directions. She waited for the moment where Alice would tell her to get out and run. Her heart was pounding and she knew that the adrenaline would carry her faster and further than she had ever gone. Alice pulled off the road, chasing down side streets and making tight turns, circling them closer to the city. She managed to get her violent yellow sports car close to the city walls before the congestion finally stopped their speedy vehicle. Bella had her hand on the door handle. There was a knock on Alice's window and she tilted her face into the shade before lowering her window.

It was a _carabiniera_ and she spoke in halting but understandable English to Alice, making a gesture that probably meant _slow down_. Alice responded in fluent Italian, surprising everyone, and after a short interaction and some friendly laughs, the _caribiniera_ directed Alice to a street that she could take to get closer to the center. It was a small street, and Bella guessed that she wouldn't have been able to open her door if they were stopped here. Alice nosed out of the street, just enough to give Bella's door clearance and to frighten a crowd of red-cloaked party-goers.

"Go! Now!" Alice commanded, and Bella was jumping out of the car, thrusting herself into the bright red crowd. There were various shades of crimson and a few Halloween-esque Draculas complete with widows' peaks and pale make-up. She pushed past the red velvet cloaks and the shiny satin capes yelling the one phrase Alice had taught her, _scusatemi_! Bella insisted on being able to yell an apology, even though Alice told her no one would care too much.

At every small break in the crowd and every new side street Bella worked on reaching her fastest possible speed. Shallow, wide stone stairs climbed up the sloping hill toward the center of town, and Bella stubbed her toe many times while jumping up them.

She stumbled and leapt over scattered potted plants and boxes in the streets. She shouldered her way past various characters who would exclaim in Italian and then ignore her. She was so glad she had packed a belt, which kept her jeans up as she reached for her fullest stride. When she had clambered out of Alice's car it had already reached five-to-noon. She fought tears, needed all of her senses in order to complete this run.

The crowd thickened as she got closer to her destination, and her height gave her the advantage of seeing beyond the crowd: there was a wide opening ahead, the _Palazzo dei Priori_ where Edward would appear. It was packed with partying families and young people. She shoved through the crowd, realizing she had come out on the wrong end of the _palazzo_ and that the clock tower was on the other side. She could see a small break where the crowd parted, and she headed towards that, using her shoulders to gain the space needed.

She barked her shin painfully on the sudden stone structure in front of her: it was an erected platform to model various alabaster sculptures made for the occasion. The morning rain covered the lovely pale art forms in dew, but Bella couldn't stop. She launched herself onto the platform, just barely manouvering through the delicate sculptures, slipping and regaining her balance on the slick stone. She drew a lot of attention, but she could already see a pale figure in the shadow of an ally by the clock tower. He was angled away from her—of course-and his eyes were closed.

She struggled through the crowd, screaming his name, knocking back the arms that tried to restrain her. She shoved and shouted until the crowd parted for her and she could see Edward now. Her frenzy frightened and unnerved those immediately around her, and in the space that was opening she saw him clearly: He had removed his shirt and stood, his back pressed to the stone of the clock tower. There was a clear delineation between his shade and the pool of light ahead of him. Eyes closed, palms facing forward and stretched as though he were about to take flight, he waited for the first toll of the bell.

"Edward!" She shouted, getting closer to him now. But her call was drowned by the first toll of the tower and the resulting cheer from the crowd. She didn't know what noon signified for this festival, but it was the mark of death for Edward. He was smiling to himself and stepping into the light, the diamond sheen just prickling along his pale skin. He was almost silver he was so beautiful. The light broke against his skin, and the dazzle was fantastic.


	21. Aro, Dumbledore's Wicked Twin Sister

_**Author's Note:** Children, this is why you should take Latin and/or Italian, in case you ever get swallowed into the vampyric catacombs of an Etruscan village. Also, who else was disappointed that pretty much everyone in the Volturi was ho-hum? I want some hotties rocking the period clothing! Have you seen Michael Sheen in Underworld? It's some sort of Sirius-Black-in-leather sexual fantasy. How dare those producers make him so boring. Commence Volturi-hotness...NOW!_

* * *

><p>Edward looked down, appraising his new raiment. It was the finest garment the angels could have given him. One not of fine gold nor even celestial fabric, but of love. The love wrapped around him looked up with wet brown eyes and a curling crown of black hair. He smiled,<p>

"I don't even remember dying. Heaven is gracious."

"You're not dead!" Bella choked through her own surprise. Holding him, him holding her back, he regarded her with affection and joy, his dark eyes warm and a smile twisting his lips.

"Carlisle," he muttered, "you were right. I am so sorry." He stroked Bella's hair, the wild smile still on him.

"We have to get out of here!" Bella said, sucking back her own emotions and focusing only on keeping him safe. "The Volturi will come for you!" Edward's beauty contorted in confusion and then sadness and horror marred his loveliness.

"Bella? You're…_here_?"

"Yes! Yes of course I am here! We have to save you, move!" But she couldn't budge him, could never move him. His face got more and more ugly as something dawned on him. "But you're unhappy. You killed yourself, Bella. Is this hell?" He asked himself. He shook his head.

"What will they do to you?" His eyes suddenly grew fierce and he held her tightly, letting go almost instantly and looking down at her, "What have they done to you? There's less of you."

"Edward you are alive!" Bella said in desperation, "You are alive and so am I but the Volturi are _coming right now_!" This finally registered and Edward's face snapped back into one of concentration and clarity. It was so familiar, so long-lost that Bella gasped. A part of her didn't care if the Volturi got them, so long as she could die looking at Edward's real face. His eyebrows knit in concentration, bringing their strong brown edges into a single line.

"Come with me," he said firmly, tucking her to his side and sliding along the wall of the clock tower to disappear down the ally, away from the crowds. They were barely down the ally when large, cloaked figures blocked their path dramatically. _Vampires_, Bella knew without seeing their faces, _only vampires would move with such choreographed grace_. Their cloaks were not the festive reds of the Italians, but deep brown and textured black. Edward passed Bella behind him, swelling his chest to hide her. Bella couldn't help but rest her bruised cheek along his back, still shocked that he was here. She could smell him. Sweet cloves.

"My apologies, gentlemen," Edward said, "your services are no longer necessary."

"_Aro vi aspetta_," muttered one of the figures, though Bella could not see which. Edward responded in Italian and a fast-spoken but quiet argument seemed to break out between them. The second figure interrupted in English.

"Shut up both of you," it said, "Aro is waiting."

"That's okay," said a chirping voice: Alice, "Edward already has a ride home. Aro doesn't need to worry." Bella saw Alice as she stood beside Edward, evening the numbers. Unfortunately, they had waited too long and another had joined the opposing vampires. The voice Bella heard startled her, but not as much a Alice and Edward's reaction to it. It was a young girl with a sweet, childish tone.

"Who is keeping us waiting?" She asked with a singsong English politeness. Bella's cheek was still pressed to Edward's back and she felt him stiffen.

"Jane," he said in recognition.

"Are you coming?" She asked, an eager child addressing a family friend. Both Alice and Edward stepped forward automatically, and Edward brought Bella to his side, one arm around her waist.

They were led to a recess in the wall where a sewer grate collected the runoff of nearby buildings. The vampire in brown lifted the grate and the smallest figure, Jane, hopped gamely into the darkness. At first Bella thought she didn't hear her land, but after a beat there was a quiet thud. It was a long drop. Edward turned to Bella and whispered,

"Come along. I'll catch you and keep you." Then he dropped down the dark hole as well. After she heard his cat-paw landing, Bella swallowed her heart and marched forward, not daring to look at the hole. She felt herself drop in sickening darkness—no wind or sound to match the thrill of her cliff dive. It was only a moment, but it was a nightmare fall. When Edward caught her he pulled her out of the way so the others could descend. There was no light—Bella was completely lost except for the reassuring touch of Edward.

"We must visit with the Volturi before they will let us leave," He whispered.

"I can't see anything," Bella said. Then she hated herself for not saying something more important, like _I love you_ or _I don't care what happens so long as I'm with you_.

"I'll lead you along, little one." Then Edward went silent, and Bella wondered whether it was because their conversation was not safe or because he had nothing to say. He kept her to his side, occasionally lifting her over an obstruction or dip she would not have seen and setting her down again. They moved in such darkness that Bella simply closed her eyes as she walked. She focused on the face that Edward had made when he'd seen her.

He had been happy to see her alive, had thought himself in heaven. He considered Bella dead, and at first seemed glad to be wherever she was—but as her panic had become more apparent he had thought they were both cast into hell. Had he only been happy to have been allowed into heaven, or had he been glad for Bella? She desperately wanted to believe that he missed her, wanted her, still loved her. But his words had been so sure beforehand, and his distance had been complete: he hadn't tried to contact her in the least. Those were not the actions of someone who still harbored any love.

He seemed protective now, a hand on her back, his body near her own—but Edward was not that sort of monster: he would not throw her to the Volturi to save himself. She pretended that his care for her was personal rather than moral, that she was special to him beyond her vulnerability as a human. Eventually she heard a heavy latch unlocking and opened her eyes. They were entering a low-lit hall. A bright-eyed and bushy-haired boy waited for them, the red of his irises belying his beauty.

"Jane!" He greeted happily, kissing her cheek, "So ambitious! We asked for the one and you brought a second," he paused and smiled, "and an aperitif!"

Edward made a noise of menace but didn't say anything, only keeping Bella closer to him. She began to tremble at his touch, at his immediate reality.

"Are you cold?" He asked, rubbing her shoulder to produce some friction.

"No, I'm fine," she said, mentally adding _now that you're here_. She couldn't take in her surroundings when Edward was present.

They passed through the hallway into increasingly baroque chambers with better lighting. Eventually Bella saw a huge set of doors ahead of them and guessed that was their destination. She was surprised when a young woman's voice greeted the vampires in high-spirited Italian. As she approached, Bella saw the young woman standing at a desk with computers. She smiled cheerily and the two small, childish vampires responded sweetly, "_Grazie, Gianna_." Before opening the main doors.

"Is she human?" Bella asked Edward, staring at the woman.

"She is their assistant, and hopes to be adopted one day." He looked away from the woman. "I doubt they will even consider her, her only talent is organization."

Bella was torn between pity and disgust for this young woman. She herself had wished to be a vampire many times, but always with the intention of protecting Edward and spending her immortal life beside him. Was this woman drawn to the power and beauty, or did she have a similar story?

They entered the hall and Bella couldn't help the feeling of awe that spread over her. It was immense with high-vaulted ceilings and carefully illuminated paintings of landscapes, which resembled windows. There were engravings and delicate structures decorating all the stones and pillars lining the walls. Edward either recognized the room or caught someone's thought because he immediately turned hostile, glaring at a regal-looking man sitting in the room.

"Edward!" The man rose, clapping his hands together in glee, "You've arrived! And look, you're in one piece. Ah, you've even brought along your other half." He smiled, heading towards the small group. He murmured greetings to Jane and Alec, kissing them on their cheeks and then winked happily at the other cloaked vampires.

"Felix, Demetri, you two always look so intimidating. Sit down and let our guests get comfortable." The two slouched into a corner, never taking their eyes from Edward and Alice. Now that he was closer, Bella got a good look at Aro. He was handsome but thin, with a delicate nose and out-of-date clothes. He was the kind of guy who would look better mussed. Recently, Bella's sexual compass had shifted toward the dirty and sweaty variety of menfolk. Edward had apparently gotten the memo.

Aro had a high collar with ruffles and a velvet coat, which was flattering but somewhat bewildering. His long, thick black hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail and he looked almost exactly the same as the painting in Carlisle's study. There was something dry about his skin pallor, something inflexible and potentially brittle. She wondered how old he was.

"Come, Edward," Aro smiled, stopping some feet away from the tiny cluster of Alice, Edward and Bella. Edward stepped in front of Bella protectively, but Aro just giggled. He seemed a little insane.

"Won't you stay for our feast? We can celebrate! _L'emoteca bella esiste_," he smiled at his own pun. Bella leaned toward Edward, not speaking Italian and he reluctantly translated.

"He calls you the beautiful blood bank."

"_Prefersice la parole 'enoteca', Eduardo? Carne bella, circolazione bella, bottiglia bella?_" He giggled to himself and then looked at Bella, "I asked if he preferred to call you his wine store, or maybe some other nice pun on your Italian name," he looked her up and down and gave a shrug of one shoulder, "_Abbastanza saporito_, tasty enough. But you aren't my particular flavor." He giggled again.

"Really, Edward," Aro clucked with a smile that was somewhere between alluring and crazy, "I don't know how you stand it. She doesn't call to me any more than any particular human, but I have seen your reaction. It sings for you—why don't you just give in?"

"Aro," Alice broke in kindly, "you know that we are part of Carlisle's coven, we cannot stay for your feast. Besides, it would bother Bella. We really should go."

"Oh, certainly!" Aro responded graciously, "But we haven't discussed your good fortune, yet! Where are those handsome young men?" He said to himself before turning to the slouching, menacing vampires in cloaks, "Demetri, can you track down my cohorts?" The thinner, shorter one straightened and took a step forward saying,

"They are here already, my lord." So the huge one must be Felix, Bella thought to herself, gulping.

The door opened and two other ostentatiously dressed vampires sauntered in. One appeared beleaguered and bored, the other simply haughty. The bored one was dark in his coloring, but the other was fair and boyish despite his matured features.

"Caius! Marcus! Look! Bella is alive after all! Isn't that wonderful? A happy ending—unusual in our world." He smiled and clapped his hands again. The pale blond one looked at Bella as though she were a tasteless joke.

"Surely you didn't invite us to the _tricliniaria_ for _that_?" He sneered. The _tricliniaria_?

"Oh of course not," he laughed as Caius went to sit down, "Heidi is herding our supper." Grumpy-looking Marcus passed close to Aro, and the two briefly touched hands in a passive gesture. Marcus had a deep, gravelly voice and muttered _Heidi_ with apparent appreciation. His face was brooding and handsome, dark and deeply lined in a very attractive way. He looked exactly as she had imagined Heathcliff would from _Wuthering Heights_. Bella looked away. Aro gave an _Oooohh_ of surprise and Edward filled Bella in on the interaction she had missed.

"Marcus senses relationships, he is surprised by the strength of ours. Aro communicates tactilely and receives his information that way." His voice was low, but every vampire in the immense room could hear him clearly.

"Ah, yes, the special powers among us," Aro looked at Alice who's eyes were on Edward. Edward gave a very slight shake of his head but Aro caught it.

"There! Yes, _Eduardo_, you have a most remarkable power. That of my own, but at a distance. How irritating," he said this last phrase with a smile, raising his eyebrows. Edward bowed his head deferentially,

"My powers are nothing compared to your own, Aro," He then turned to Bella, "Aro can read thoughts and memories with touch, but unlike me he can read them _all._ Every thought experienced by that individual—all in a single touch." Aro stepped forward as Edward explained and held out his hand toward Bella,

"But not this one," he muttered, "Though her blood calls you, the rest is silent." His ruby eyes bothered Bella but she was determined to maintain eye contact and not look away. He smiled crazily.

"May I?" He asked. The question did not make room for a refusal. Bella looked to Edward and Alice, who nodded. She held out a shaky hand and smooth, cold, papery shale cupped her hand. She felt only the chalky cold of Aro's skin, but no electric zap or pain as she had anticipated. Aro's closed eyes opened and he looked at Bella, a grin spreading across his face. He had a slimy sort of attraction about him, it reminded her of Mike Newton.

"She blocks me as well," he muttered in fascination. He stepped back and turned toward the child-vampires standing near Caius and Marcus. "Let us see if she can resist a power as strong as Jane's."

"No!" Edward stepped forward, blocking Bella. It was as though he had been hit as soon as he stepped in front of her. His body seized and a choked scream gargled in his throat. His back arched and there was a cracking sound as his bones tried to accommodate the unnatural pose.

"Admirable!" Aro smiled, "I screamed like a cat in heat when I asked Jane to try that on me," he giggled, "But Janie you missed." Edward dropped heavily to the floor and immediately tried to stand up again, but he was badly shaken. Bella had once seen a deer struck by a car, wobbling on its legs and heaving itself futilely upward: Edward looked like that. Alice had to pick him up, steadying him with her strength.

"I'm sorry, Aro," Jane said in her adorable voice, "I'll try again." Bella stepped forward, afraid Edward would try to stop her again. The movement impressed Aro but Jane was concentrating on Bella, her gemstone eyes sparking a bright red. Then a look of pouting frustration clouded her features and Bella realized it hadn't worked. Aro laughed happily and clapped his hands again, "Splendid! We have a mystery!" Jane was angry, and her baby face turned to barely contained fury.

"Oh you must join us," Aro giggled, "we can have Edward the listener, Alice the seer, and _la bella enigma_!" He never seemed to tire of bad puns. His eyes moved in a circle, first to Alice,

"Alice, my dear, would you join us?" Alice politely declined, as though her presence were requested at a dinner party which conflicted with her schedule. Edward's refusal was somewhat less polite and much more throaty.

"And you, Bella?" Aro asked with his smile. Bella was taken aback, as were his bored cohorts.

"You cannot be serious?" Demanded the sharp and high voice of Caius, loud enough to cause Bella to jump.

"Come now, you two! Can't you see the potential?" Aro enthused, "We haven't seen such raw talent since the twins," Jane and Alec bristled at the comparison, but Aro didn't seem to care. "She would be a wonderful addition to our ranks," he continued.

"No," Said Edward. It hurt Bella to see him sacrifice them this way—she would gladly be a vampire if it meant they could all survive. She wasn't sure if she wanted to be part of this coven, though.

"_Lex ad nos obligat_." Marcus agreed in Latin. Edward turned his face to Marcus, reading his thoughts but demanding he voice them aloud.

"How does the law claim us?" He asked, no longer hiding the anger in his voice.

"_Nimis cognoscit puella!_" Marcus returned. Alice whispered to Bella translating, "The girl knows too much."

"Really, Marcus," Aro sighed, "You know how I detest Latin."

"I've noticed a few humans in your ranks here," Edward continued, "surely the law is lax in that regard."

"They are restrained," Marcus explained, having shifted to English. Bella was surprised that his accent was similar to Carlisle's though his voice was substantially deeper. She again averted her eyes, unable to look at a manifestation of the handsome Heathcliff, one who wanted her dead. "When they live out their purpose or threaten our security we can dispose of them easily. You are not willing to exercise the same." Caius jumped in, agreeing with this,

"Yes, if you do not kill or turn her, we cannot trust her. And obviously you intend to do neither." Caius was too sharp and pretty, the sort of boy fawned over by the likes of Oscar Wilde or thirteen-year-old-girls. It was Marcus who seemed more dangerous in his beauty to Bella.

"Unless he _does_ wish to turn the girl and immortalize her," Aro suggested, turning from the other two back to Edward and Alice. Edward had calmed himself.

"Perhaps we do intend as much. What would you do to us?" He asked. Aro smiled at this and it chilled Bella.

"We could let you go with that promise! You could live your happy, dull lives in Spoons, Minnesota and subsist on vermin. That is, until you see the civility of our coven. We are patient in that regard," He smiled crazily, but Bella could now see that he was clever, too. "You would have to convince all of us that this is your true intention," he added.

There was a cruel menace to his words, a false pout to his lips. Bella knew Edward could not convince them—he was too strongly opposed to turning anyone, especially her.

"I've seen it!" Alice said, stepping forward. Edward closed his eyes, his shoulders falling a fraction of an inch. All eyes turned to Alice.

"I've seen her future. I turn her myself," her voice was calm but distant—none of the singing trill that Bella loved. Alice held out her hand and Aro took it greedily, his eye closing in ecstasy.

"_Meraviglioso_," he muttered after a few beats, finally letting go. "To see actions before they occur, to grasp the unexplored future," his body swelled with an inhalation and he let out a long hum, "Marvelous," he repeated. Then he turned to the other two.

"I saw the unkempt child, and she will be a keystone when she turns." He looked at Bella, the smile lingering around his lips. She felt a sick shudder as her body perked up, attracted against her will. "Tall, beautiful, graceful. She is a sight to see—and there is power in that being. She will be intelligent and strong—a keystone to our ranks," he repeated to himself. He broke his own reverie with a laugh,

"She sings to me now, Edward. But it is not her blood I crave." Bella felt naked and violated, her stomach churned as though she might throw up.

"Why do we not turn her now?" Caius asked snottily. Bella was having much more success ignoring his beauty.

"Oh, come now, Caius!" Aro castigated angrily, "Can't you see they are in love? Let them suffer a little, it makes the eventual turn so much more pleasurable. She was young in the vision, Edward will succumb to her siren song soon enough, or else good Alice will turn her as she has promised."

He snapped his fingers for Demetri who stepped forward.

"Take our guests to wait for nightfall. Someone can prepare them a travel ticket and accommodations. They have to go back to Spoons for awhile, but we'll see them soon enough."

"Thank you," Alice said. Edward's jaw was clenched and he wasn't breathing. "I think we can provide our own arrangements, though."

"Nevertheless." Aro smiled dismissively as Demetri took over and he turned back to his partners. The slender but menacing form of Demetri led the three of them from the great room, the _tricliniaria_ as they had called it. He had a fascinating hook-nose which should not have been beautiful, yet it was his most alluring asset. Bella tried to unravel this piece of vampire magic as he led them out of the _triclinaria_. Waiting outside was a group of tourists, led by a super model in skinny jeans and outrageous heels. She was flipping among various languages, explaining the architecture and various art on the walls. Demetri smiled at the girl,

"Nice catch," he laughed to Heidi. She returned the smile, pushing down her sunglasses to reveal her own red eyes and a wink. Aro was calling from the inside of the room they had just left, greeting the tourists, saying they were just in time for a surprise. Edward and Alice took Bella by either arm and started running her down an adjacent hallway. Demetri quickly caught up with them, forcing them to a halt.

"Stop!" He yelled. Alice hissed at him, "We're trying to get Bella away from that—" but then Bella could hear the screaming and panic, muffled by the giant doors. The tour group was being hunted and slaughtered. Alice had mentioned that the Volturi never prey upon the people of Volterra—they had their food delivered. Edward clapped his hands over Bella's ears, but she had already heard too much.

"There must have been thirty of them," She whispered hoarsely.

"Thirty-five," Demetri agreed hungrily. "Silvia is at the entrance. She can take care of you there."

Bella was crying, which slowed her progress along the tunnels and irritated Demetri.

"Can't you carry her?" He asked in agitation—he was missing the feast. Edward whispered to Bella and she nodded. He lifted her up, curling her body tightly toward his own. As the three of them bolted through the tunnels he hummed to her, a song which was familiar but which she could not place while she was crying. He was trying to give her a new sound to cover the screams in her head.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Post Scriptus: <strong>Well, one of Edward's relatives (ex-wife? sister?) Lynette has officially given him up for dead. I might stray so far from canon as to kill of certain characters, but alas, Edward has momentarily escaped the Volturi's death grip. Team Jacob: Keep holding on. I love him, too, but sometimes people let you down. We gotta ride this wave and see where it carries us._

_**Post-Post-Scriptus:** I'll be posting daily in order to try and finish out this story by the end of the week. My "deadline" is due to the fact that I need to escape to the woods and scream about some stuff to nobody in particular (you know, like you do.) The up-coming third book will be titled Semper Augustus and I would appreciate much feedback on THIS book, its characters, and what you like/don't like. I promise that i'll take your comments into serious consideration and alter book III accordingly._

_**Post-Post-Post-Scriptus:** Tell your friends, tell your neighbors, tell your friends' neighbors! Semper Augustus is under construction, the Bella Swan is Fat and Ugly tetrology shall continue!  
><em>


	22. Bella Expresses Herself Through Swearing

Demetri left them with a pretty Italian girl in the reception hall. She and Alice spoke in Italian while Edward saw to Bella. He sat her on a leather couch and swept the hair out of her eyes.

"Are you okay, little one?" He asked. Bella stared at him uncomprehendingly. Then the horror and rush of the previous few hours disappeared and she remembered one true fact: Edward was still alive, and he was with her—for now.

"What's going to happen?" she asked meekly.

"We have to leave Volterra as soon as possible. Alice is arranging for our departure. We'll get you something to eat, a place to sleep for a little while, and then we'll take you back to Forks."

"Will you be coming?" She asked. Edward's face was expressionless except for his eyebrows, which pressed together. They were unkempt and Bella had the urge to smooth them back into place before she remembered that wasn't her job anymore. She wasn't allowed to touch him like that.

He'd combed through Alice's brain whenever possible. He saw Jacob. Bella couldn't read Edward's features as he turned the problem of Jacob around in his head. Was he bothered by her attachment? Was he trying to think how to break her heart again?

"I'll be coming," he said finally. "But promise me you will get some sleep. You look awful."

"You too," she smiled, a lie. Alice came back with a small bag and two cloaks.

"Your things," she said, handing him the bag. "Thank you for not destroying your passport." She added.

"I didn't have the heart, you did such a good job with it." He smiled, putting his shirt back on. They put on the cloaks, but apparently Bella didn't need one.

"The car's safe," Alice told her, "we'll get you to a hotel and clean you up, okay?" Bella nodded dumbly and followed the two beautiful vampires out the front doors. She was afraid Edward would try and separate from her in the car, but he sat in the backseat with her and let her rest her head on his shoulder. Magnanimous to the end.

"What does _tricliniaria_ mean?" She asked, knowing the gist by now.

"Cafeteria," Edward said gently, "they have a bad sense of humor."

"So do you," Bella said after a long pause, "but at least it gave us time to save you."

"Shhh," he said, "go to sleep."

"I can't," she said with such tragedy that it sounded as though she were like Edward, and were physically incapable of the act. The true reason behind her desperation was twofold: she feared she already was asleep and that this would be the most cruel and destructive nightmare yet—but she also was electrically alert beside Edward, unable to calm her screaming synapses. She could feel his presence like the invisible edges of magnetism alternating between attraction and repulsion. When she found herself drawing into him, attracted, she pulled back remembering his sea change and her own worthlessness.

Edward swallowed compulsively, his sharp Adam's apple sliding under the translucent skin.

"Bella," he began, using a specific sort of detached voice which she recognized as forced, "sometimes people don't notice what they see. I was glancing through Alice's memories and she didn't pick up on some things..."

Bella recognized this about Alice. Sometimes she had the playfulness of a big-pawed tiger cub unaware of her own strength; other times she severed herself from contact: an abandoned girl unsure of others.

"It was wrong for her to visit. She sees that, but she didn't see why."

"If she hadn't seen me," Bella protested, hot tears arriving too soon to her eyes, "You would be _gone_!" Edward nodded, calming her down.

"That's not what I mean. We are all grateful that such tragedy has been averted. What I mean is, she interrupted your progression."

"My what?"

Edward looked at her askance, his lovely eyes catching the dappling lights of traffic through the windows. It broke her heart to look at him: not because of his inhuman face, so often compared to the ideal of an angel's—but because it had once been _her _face. It had once been a face that looked upon her with reassuring love and depthless bounds of compassion. It was a face that mirrored back her own image, and through that reflection she could see herself as beautiful and strong.

"Jacob," Edward said. "I don't approve of shape-shifters, in fact I prefer to kill them when I can."

"You're going to kill Jacob?" Bella interrupted angrily. Edward held up a hand, indicating he wasn't finished.

"But despite our natural aggression towards those beasts, I can see what Alice could not. He has done you good. I can see how you care for him," he paused and Bella noticed that his ear resembled the same careful craftsmanship of the alabaster in Volterra. It was carved like a thin shell, smooth as a nautilus. She had once nuzzled her nose into the smooth space of the ear.

"I think our fiasco has upset the progression of that relationship. Obviously Jacob is in love with you. You do, or will, return that love fully. Alice's presence, and especially my own, have endangered that development."

Bella's eyes stung. Was _everyone_ in love with Jacob except for her? How had he managed to win over Edward, a vampire who freely admitted to wanting to _kill_ werewolves? She understood that Charlie had a bachelor's relationship with Billy and the two of them gossiped like housewives trying to get their kids together. She understood that Jacob had, for his own foolish reasons, latched on to Bella despite her toxic cloud of instability. She understood that Sam thought Jacob had some kind of cosmic claim on her because she was the only one who accepted him despite his secret. But now _Edward_, the man she would love until her dying day, the man she knew she would never shake off no matter how many times he broke her heart—the man who _hated_ Jacob's people—even _he_ wanted her to be with him?

Her mind flipped and her empty stomach churned. Everyone was on Team Jacob except for her.

"No." She said woozily. Then, finding her anger burn she raised her voice, "No! I don't accept your appraisal of the situation!"

Edward raised an eyebrow. It made him dashing, quizzical and painful to look at. Bella's eyes watered and her face flushed, she had to look away.

"I don't love Jacob. Not in the way he wants me to. I can never love him that way. I don't want to go to him."

"You kissed him." He said, deftly stealing Alice's memories.

"You tried to kill yourself," Bella responded, "we all makes mistakes."

"What is the stumbling block?" He asked in his disinterested voice. He was examining her clinically, using the a voice of detached curiosity. He did not dare to hope.

"Oh, Edward," She shook her head, crying. "You're embedded in my heart like a piece of glass. And the more I struggle, the deeper you work your way in!" She was crying full out, and Edward held his breath, watching—poised to see how events unfolded. Bella continued,

"I'm sorry I burden you. I'm sorry I'm the stone of guilt that nearly got you killed. You can forget me, you can move on, you can grow up, but I can't. Edward: _you're_ my stumbling block. You ruined me and now I can desire nothing less. Nothing less than you."

She sobbed, ashamed to admit her candid dependency on him and her helplessness. He hadn't stolen anything of hers—she had given it away freely, and now she mourned the loss as well as celebrated the memories. It didn't hurt to live without Edward—it killed. She felt her life shorten in the days without him, but even that diminished life was preferable to one where Edward did not exist. Her only hope and salvation in the past months had been the belief that he was better off without her—that at least he was happy somewhere.

Edward put a hand on Bella's shoulder in the backseat of the car. They would be arriving in Rome soon, waiting for the planes that would take them back to Forks. But right now, the whole world was encapsulated in a bright yellow Porsche.

"Guilt did not send me to seek death, Bella," he said gently. She looked up and saw that his own eyes were quivering—the only indication she had that he was close to tears. Vampires could not cry and Edward had once told her how exhausting it was being unable to find this catharsis. "I had planned that death a long time ago. I was just surprised I had to act upon it so soon."

"But that was back when you thought you… loved me," she sniffed, shaking at the l word. "You're free of that now. Eternity is yours again."

"I cannot be free of Bella Swan," he said. "I freely gave you my eternity. I wouldn't live it without you."

"So we've imprisoned each other," she said. "Tangled up like a thorn tree." He nodded. He'd given her his eternity, as if that were a thing to give an eighteen-year-old girl.

"When I struggle," he said, "you tear me apart. Your absence was the ink that colored my pages. The want of you was my reality."

They were on a precipice and Bella had been here before. She could let the unsustainable tension crash around her as she chose a side, or she could ride out the balance until it broke under its own weight.

"I don't know how to give you back whatever I took," Bella said. Edward rubbed his hand along his face, and Bella wondered what sort of magic made his stony body produce the sound of skin on skin.

"I don't want it back, Bella. I've—" he let out an exasperated sigh and then appeared to change the subject. "Honor is vulnerable. It rests upon the history of words and actions. I've betrayed you utterly, Bella Swan, and I have betrayed my own honor. I could say things to you, but you will have no cause to believe me. I could make amends, but you have no reason to credit my gestures. I've successfully condemned myself to a new level of hell and—"

"Shut up," she said softly, though he did upon hearing her words. "Just," she shook her head, "shut up for a moment." She had to think. She'd been waking up more in the presence of Jacob and through riot conditioning, yet none of that compared to the sudden burst of cognition she felt around Edward. She'd forgotten his effect on her. She _got_ Edward. She could read him.

"Edward," she said, "you just tried to kill yourself. Why would you do such a horrible thing?"

"Some people are meant to be artists and some presidents. I finally found my purpose in life and it has been to protect Bella Swan. I failed, and the only option left to me was death."

"Were you protecting me when you did that to me? When you left me? Was that part of your protective plan, too?" She hated this new realization, she hated that she could remember how Edward thought, that she could understand him now that he was beside her. Where had he been before? Why could she have not seen it all before?

"It worked," he began, "If I had not been hasty you would have escaped the thorn bush to be with Jacob. You still may, though I know I am wounding you by being here."

"I don't want Jacob," she shook her head, "And you didn't keep me alive by leaving. I…" she didn't want to admit it, had never voiced it to anyone yet Alice had seen it anyway. "I was trying to die because you left. That is what you did to me."

"You're both fucked up," Alice muttered darkly from the front seat.

"We are," Edward responded hollowly. He was frozen, stony and distant. Bella examined him carefully, not sure what she was feeling. He looked like a coked-out movie star, gaunt and haggard with an attractive shimmer of destruction. There was something pleasing about the black eyes and the vivid bone structure of his face. He was hideous, and still beautiful. He was the rib in her side, smooth and grotesquely displaced.

"You know the myth of the sunflower?" She heard herself saying. Maybe it was the Latin, maybe it was the old-world setting, but Bella felt her education coming back to her from a distance. The words came as though someone else were speaking them, a Bella who had long lain dormant. Edward nodded but asked her to continue. Of course he knew the myth of the sunflower. He knew everything.

"Clytie fell in love with the sun god, but it was a hopeless love." _Yellow roses to symbolize hopeless love_, she remembered. "The other gods pitied her, turning her into a sunflower. The flower would turn its face to trace the progress of her beloved through the sky. It was the only relief they could manage."

"Sunflowers in Italian are _girasole_, turn-toward-the-sun," he said blankly.

"Do you think that is a beautiful story?" Bella asked him, scrutinizing his bone-white face. He nodded.

"It's not," Bella wept, "it's a horrible story. It's _our_ story, Edward. Why couldn't the gods make her into another star? Or part of the sun itself? They didn't even _try_."

"Bella, you can't be—"

"Shut the fuck up, Edward!" She shouted angrily, "You just shut up right now!" She hadn't realized she was angry with him, and now it all boiled upward, "You want to be Clytie, you son of a bitch! You want to just watch me on my journey and then _die_. You think that sounds _so great_! You're a god-damned sun King! Just let me be another star with you. One of us has to change, why can't you change me?"

"Bella," Alice interrupted again, "I don't think—"

"You too, Alice!" Bella shouted, "You all left me to die! Yes, I did throw myself off that goddamned cliff and you know what? I probably _did_ want to die! Being a human sounds fucking awesome, doesn't it? Going through this has been a jolly merry-go-round for me! Why won't you just change me now? Why won't you release me from this!"

Edward carefully controlled Bella's flailing arms. If she tried to punch stone she would break her bones, and he had to be delicate to stop her from pulverizing herself against him.

"I tried to release you!" He shouted, "I can't condemn you, Bella! I'd die a thousand times over if it kept you alive another day! I'll never stop your heart! _I love you too much_!" Alice had pulled over the car and was trying to sort out a way to interrupt the feud in the back seat, but when she turned around Bella was wrapped around her brother. They were kissing in such a way that Alice turned back to face the front. Bewildered.

"Should I leave?" She asked. There was no response, so she decided to take a stroll and find some pizza. "Okay then," she muttered to herself.

Bella was weeping as she kissed Edward, but she could feel him trembling. He would never be allowed real tears, but his body language indicated that they would be streaming from his face were he able to cry for her. She smushed her soft tissue alongside the planes of his hard cheekbone and whispered,

"We have to stop killing ourselves, Edward."

"I know," he nodded, kissing all the pieces of skin he could reach, "but I don't know how to stop. I haven't been human for so long. My dry bones have sinew and marrow now, but I still can't fathom this. I can't handle the things you do to me." He was referring to the whirlwind emotions Bella had swept into his life. Until she showed up, it was pretty easy being a vampire. Now he had _feelings_ and it made him do stupid, horrible things like try to kill himself.

"Just don't go again," she whispered, feeling an ache open up inside her. Her heart was beating fast, like she'd been running sprints. She pushed her mouth on his, her hand moving under his shirt. "Don't leave me again," she repeated. She wanted to push him back into her side, force him to fit within the blown-out hole gaping in her chest. She was on his lap but her long legs halted her from getting as close as she wanted to be. "Get back inside me," she pleaded, "I want you inside me."

"Bella I—" Edward began to protest but then he realized something was missing. He wasn't tempted by her blood anymore. Her death had delivered such a shock to his system that he'd gone into override. Still, a solid-stone horny teenager didn't sound "safe". He kissed along her neck, only wanting to worship the vulnerable skin and the taste of sweat and oil along her living, thrumming body. How could he have given this up? What sort of demon had convinced him to leave this girl?

"We'll save that for later," he said. Bella made a sound of protest but he talked over her, "I'm not saying no," he smiled. "Let's just play a little." She smiled with him, and as his lips traced along her neck down to her clavicle Bella gave herself to the bliss of sensuality. Having shared nothing more than a kiss before, his lightest exploration shot new flames and sparks into the ragged wound of her body. He let her touch him, let her find the patches of skin that made him sigh or shiver.

When Alice came back with a still-warm uncut pizza, Bella and Edward still had their clothes on, but Bella was asleep.

"Take us to the hotel, Alice." Edward said. _What's going on_? His sister asked archly.

"I'm going back to Forks. We all are."

* * *

><p><strong><em>Author's<em> _Note_:**_ Stay tuned for the next installment: "Losing Count of the Bitch Slaps"!_


	23. One More Slap for Good Measure

_**Author's Note: **Uh oh. I sort of like Edward again. Curse your fickle heart, Bella Swan!_

* * *

><p>"No more lying, Alice," Edward said in the car ride.<p>

_Well, duh_. Alice responded. There was some silence as she floated through her thoughts, knowing Edward was watching. Finally she settled on the elephants: Jacob and the wolves. The Volturi demanding Bella be turned.

"We have the treaty," Edward began. But Alice pulled up the stench and the uncontrollable hatred she felt for the teenage boy. Peace talks seemed impossible. Edward saw something else.

"Why didn't you stop them?" He asked, "If you hate him as much as you love Bella?"

_Curiosity_, Alice insisted, _and I'm very pissed at Bella_. She pulled up the memory of slapping the girl, knowing full well that Edward might lunge from the backseat and try to throttle her. But he stayed in his seat, combing in fingers through Bella's curls as she drooled on the leather. She could feel Edward prying. No, it had not been curiosity. Alice had been angry and she still was angry. Her stupid and dramatic little brother was staging a complicated suicide plot in Italy, all for the love of this slippery human who had already given herself to a new monster.

"You love Bella," Edward reminded her. Bella looked awful in Alice's mind, witchy and worn. He had to read past the heavy gauze she'd lain over the memories, her mind was already re-forming them to make Bella look dishonest and manipulative. She was having trouble reconciling all her feelings surrounding that child. Alice was trying to hate Bella, grateful only that she had been a successful tool in Edward's rescue, but her brother saw the truth. He saw that when Alice had slapped her it had been to save her. He saw the still-harbored hope of a little vampire sister with Bella's wavy black hair.

"Is that what she would look like?" He asked, disturbed by the unrecognizable visage of vampire-Bella. He'd always pushed those visions away.

_I don't know. I haven't asked recently! I was busy trying to stop your sparkle-suicide and get us out of the cafeteria._ Alice added in a pastiche of slurs, swears, and violent images to emphasize her anger with Edward. Now that he was safely alive, both she and Rosalie were planning how to kill him for scaring them so much.

"I don't care about the Volturi," Edward said, interrupting her vitriolic brain-rant, "but Bella wants the change, even against my wishes. You were correct to note that neither of us are entirely coherent at the moment—"

"_Fucked up" I said_.

"Modern slang," he shrugged. He was having difficulty wording himself, something that hadn't happened in a long time. For the first time, he wished that Alice could see into his thoughts. Finally he tried to express his predicament, "I want to trust Bella," he began, "I want to be honest with her—No, I _will_ be honest with her. But she is utterly wrong in this regard. I don't know how to proceed, one side has to win."

Alice's brain took on the slow-motion of her visions. It began to fog as the repetitive image of ambiguity and strife came back to her. Bella was bittersweet to the Cullens. Bella was a double-edged sword. Bella smeared their black and white existence.

_Maybe there will be no winners,_ Alice thought glumly.

But Edward saw something different. _Maybe there will be no sides_, he wondered.

* * *

><p>Edward watched Bella sleep in the hotel room as they waited for the airports to begin early-morning flights. He'd wanted to keep her alive so badly, he had considered himself a part of her own auto-immune biology. Yet he had forgotten himself. He had forgotten that the grace of existence had not been enough, that he had prayed for death every day until Bella Swan had first kissed him. Existence was not enough. It was not enough to simply continue. If it were, then he should turn her this instant and guard her against disease, accidents, and age.<p>

He would never do that. Edward looked at his own cowardice. Hurt sounded so noble in art. Suffering was honorable. Now he saw the truth: that Bella wounded him deeply, and he cringed from that pain. He had refused to look at his own fear of pain, pretending that he was strong. He had been a resplendent martyr, one of the gilded icons from Carlisle's collection. If he were to love this girl and give her _life_, not simply existence, he would have to accept her love in return. He would have to be Edward for her, to live his life beside her own. He would have to become a complex character.

She sighed and snuggled closer to the cool skin beside her, comforting as the other side of the pillow on a hot night. He traced his ivory-key fingers along her forehead and felt a stab of jealousy. Alice had not seen, she had kept herself out of sight, yet she had clearly heard and waited. He could hear that now: the sound of human skin on human skin. The sound of Jacob Black's werewolf lips upon Bella. And the echoing sound of Bella's involuntary sigh of pleasure.

Bella's lies only worked when she believed them. She insisted that she loved Edward, had always loved him. Jacob had a warm, pliant body. Was that what she wanted? She had told Alice that was the first and only kiss, but it had been a beautiful series. There had been many, and Alice had perfect hearing. The sound of someone else's hand in Bella's hair. The slide of lip on lip. And then there had been the other kiss, one so graphic and terrible that it burned Edward. The mouth and body and blood-rushing virility of a fully-functioning young boy.

_What are we going to do, Bella_? Edward thought to himself, watching the girl sleep.

* * *

><p>The precarious quiet was broken when Alice pulled into the Swan driveway and Charlie stormed out of his house. Bella's eyes flashed to his hands and belt, but he was unarmed. She sighed in relief.<p>

"Isabella Swan what the hell are you doing to me?" He yelled. He ground to a halt as the third member of the car emerged.

"You son of a bitch," he said dangerously, "You listen to me, boy!"

"Dad!" Bella interrupted, putting herself between Charlie and Edward. "Dad, there was a misunderstanding and I had to go to LA and I couldn't wait; I left you a note."

"Note?" He bellowed, not calming down at all, "I return home from Harry's funeral thinking, 'Where's Bella? Did she really miss the funeral for Alice?' and when I get home all there is is a _note_!" His eyes turned to Alice, shining with betrayal.

"You promised me he wasn't coming back!" He yelled, "You saw her, saw what he _did_ to her!"

"Dad, stop!" Bella yelled, shot full of adrenaline. "I'm an adult! I made this decision! Edward didn't know I had left Forks until he saw me!"

She finally caught his eye and held it, staring her father down and assuming her full height. "Let's go inside, Dad. I'll tell you about it there."

"Alice," Charlie warned as he turned with Bella to head back inside, "you call before you come by, you hear me? And if that boy shows up on my front step I will arrest him for trespassing. I will arrange a restraining order if I have to!"

"Dad," Bella sighed. She dragged him into the house and immediately gave herself over to exhaustion. She didn't have a good cover story yet, and she was a terrible liar, so she hoped her obvious sleep-deprivation would buy her time. She'd slept at the hotel but that felt like days ago. Edward had kept up a non-stop hum and murmur of songs to her through their flights, and she had listening to him recount music she'd forced herself to forget. They'd been too afraid to talk on the planes, and a pregnant silence had filled the car ride back home. They had much to talk about, but neither was ready to resume the conversation.

Charlie cut his own rant short when he saw his daughter was dead on her feet. He hurried her up to bed, playing the role of protective father, but not without some colorful choice words regarding Edward Cullen. The devil himself was going on a long-deserved hunt, and Bella fell into a sleep perturbed by the overcast daylight glowing through her windows. When she awoke, Edward was replacing a floorboard apologetically, revealing the secret stash of his memorabilia.

"You were there?" She asked, sleepy and confused.

"Left my heart here," he said lamely, splaying some CDs in his fingers like cards.

"Come here," she said, sitting up. He sat carefully on the bed and looked at his Bella. She took a sharp breath and then slapped him with her palm. She knew it would hurt her, not him, but it was an important gesture to make.

"Bella!" He said in surprise, not even flinching, "Why—"

"That was the _worst_ of it, Edward! The _worst_. The only thing I had left to remember you were real was _this_!" She pushed back her sleeve to show the scar. "That's not you, Edward. I only had James. That's all you left behind."

"I—" he began, but there could be no response to her accusation. She was right. A nasty part of Edward tried to weigh the sides, figure out who had it worse. Sure she'd driven herself insane, tried to kill herself a few times, and scared the hell out of Charlie. But she'd also made out with a werewolf.

He looked up from his reverie to wipe away Bella's tears but her eyes were dry. He touched his own cheeks, where the tears refused to fall, and he felt his shoulders hunch forward, his forehead crinkle. He was remembering what it was like to cry, he could feel the hollow coughing rattle up from his useless lungs. The last time he'd cried had been on a hospital bed, knowing he was an orphan and about to die. Now he looked at Bella and her dry eyes and felt his chest constrict.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered hoarsely, knowing the words were not nearly enough, letting some of the weight of the last months fall on him. He coughed again, his body curling into Bella's as he cried dry tears and coughed empty sobs.

"It's okay," she murmured, rubbing his back and helping him feel his own hurt, "next time I'll get Emmett to slap you."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong> This was just a little addition to the updates because I love you guys THAT MUCH. Just so nobody thinks I'm a master storyteller, this is all written out and quadruple-edited ahead of time, I'm just feeding you pieces. I'm actually working on _Semper Augustus_ right now, the third book in the Bella Swan is Fat and Ugly tetrology._


	24. In Which Edward's Been Reading Smeyer

_**Author's Note: **I think Edward grabbed some Smeyer books on the plane ride home. Otherwise, he never would have asked the question. He would have already known the answer.  
><em>

_**Author's Second Note:** I've been a little out of it due to the flu going around. The only thing that got me through this illness was 1) memorizing some of the details of feeling sick so I can use it on characters later on and 2) reading your effusive and beautiful reviews. You guys are my heroes, for real for real. This is the penultimate chapter!_

* * *

><p>Edward turned to her and she could see how the hunt had changed his features. He looked young and rounded, polished and shiny. There was no more drugged-out model, no more bruising. His eyes were the haunting gold of Terrance Howard without the warm skin. He looked baleful.<p>

"You were very stupid," she said, kissing his forehead, "but so was I." She cooled her hot face against his skin, feeling airy and unreal. "Edward?" She asked, incredulous that she could speak his name so easily again, "What can we do to stop that from happening again?"

"I should have been honest with you," he said, shaking his head in disbelief as he surveyed his actions, "I should have trusted you, but I was afraid to hurt you. Now look what I've done."

"We can come back from this," she said, feeling the unfamiliar swell of surety that Edward brought her. She decided to dwell on happy thoughts.

"When will Alice will turn me?"

"She won't," He said.

"You mean, you will?" She asked, hopeful.

"We won't have to turn you," he raised his head from her lap to look at his beloved, "Alice's visions are subjective, remember? The Volturi don't realize how easily the future can change. Besides, their concept of time is nothing like that of humans: they might not remember our promise for a century."

"By which time I'll be dead," Bella said.

"No, by which time we'll be together," Edward murmured, tucking hair behind Bella's ear. She straightened as though she'd been electrocuted.

"You cannot still intend to die," it wasn't a question but an assertion.

"Bella," he sighed, "what does it matter to you how I do or don't live when you are gone?"

She hopped out of bed, eying him warily. "Are the rest of your family moved back yet?"

"Yes, they arranged the move while we were still flying into Seattle," he said, failing to follow her train of thought. He'd forgotten how irksome it was to not know her thoughts.

"Take me as fast as you can to your house. I have to talk to all of them."

* * *

><p>He loaded her onto his back and Bella tried to remember the last time she had blurred through the trees with Edward. He took the high road this time, which meant jumping across fractured cliffs, sailing through the air as if he were flying. The wind pulled tears from her eyes, caressing her face and running its chilly fingers through her hair as if to ask, <em>Where have you been?<em>

That was the problem with Edward, he was not simply a boy, he was not just a person even. Edward was a world, and he had alienated her when he left. Forks opened itself up again to Bella, revealing the bird's nests and surprised chittering of creatures startled from their perches by the leaping vampire. She turned her head to see a startled porcupine staring back at her with a face which must have mimicked her own.

She carefully detached herself from the slender back of her lover, realizing she hadn't worked on her speech at all. Her heart raced as she approached the black glass windows of the abandoned house, until she saw Edward in the reflection beside her. Peering through the windows she saw the blurry movement of vampires resettling in their old home. The rooms were full again and life was stirring within.

The Cullen-Hales had heard Edward and Bella approach, and greeted the prodigal couple with grins and exclamations of joy. Alice wanted to show Bella her new layout of the den, and Emmett was holding onto the baby grand piano while Rosalie changed her mind as to where it should go this time. Only Jasper caught Bella's urgency, shooting it first to Carlisle before broadcasting her mood to the family. When the bubbling voices of the vampires cut out Bella shot a glance to Jasper, curly-haired and unblinking. He gave her a minute nod and then stepped backwards rather than forward, a polite reminder that she was tasty but he was a gentleman.

"I'm sorry. I don't have much time. We need to talk about what happened and about what _will_ happen." She had to get back before Charlie knew she was gone. The other vampires were eager to talk to her, but Jasper kept them quiet.

Carlisle made the suggestion of the dining table, where the family usually held their meetings and discussions: it lent Bella's urgency credit. She had been working on the points of her short speech in the last few minutes. She began briskly.

"Charlie can't know I'm gone, so my time is short. You all know what happened these past few days. Many mistakes were made, and the blame can be spread fairly evenly but the good news is that it all worked out. There is no need to point fingers or hold grudges. We are all happy. For now." She looked at Edward who, despite his handicap, was beginning to read her thoughts in a more traditional manner.

"What Edward did, he will do again. Isn't that right, Edward?" Everyone looked to the youngest son, the troublemaker and the prodigal child. Bella pressed, "When I die—which I _will_ because I am a human—you will force the hand of the Volturi in order to die yourself." There was a pause, and Edward could hear the shock and disbelief gestating in that moment.

"Yes," He said firmly. "My life is tied to Bella's. That is not a crime!" There was an uproar of voices but Jasper calmed them with a heavy hand. Bella felt stunned as though a drug had abruptly kicked in, but it lifted just as quickly.

"Let her speak!" Jasper said evenly.

"Thank you," Bella acknowledged the nervous figure standing furthest away from her, "You all know my own opinions on the matter. For many reasons, but mainly for Edward's life, I have decided that I want to join your coven. In fact," she glared at Edward who was making sounds of protest, "we _promised_ the Volturi that I would be changed shortly. I've always taken this decision seriously, but before now it has always been between me and Edward. Now, unfortunately, it is between your coven and the Volturi, with me at the center. Therefore, I put it to a vote. Decide now: should I be changed or not?" Bella looked to the figure just past Edward, whose vote was already taken into account. "Alice?"

"Pardon my quibbling," Edward interrupted through gritted teeth. "But if we are to vote upon the eternal soul of the woman I'd die for, might I at least plead my own side?" His eyes flicked to Bella and she could tell he felt manipulated. She told herself he was wrong, that this was not coercion but honesty. That his whole family needed to know. Nevertheless, she did feel a prickle of guilt.

"The Volturi _are not_ a threat," Edward began, "If they even remember Bella in the next hundred years, they'll never find her. They are too cocky and failed to notice the gist of her power: _psychic blocks_. Demetri, their tracker, relies on a psychic not physical trail. He never caught the tenor of her mind, therefore he will never find her and between me and Alice we can always be six steps ahead of them."

While Emmett noddied his head in approval of Edward's clever twist, Rosalie raised her voice.

"No," she said in a throaty voice. Bella had expected Rosalie to stage a tantrum, but she seemed oddly calm. The look on Emmett's face informed her that this side of Rosalie was more dangerous than her louder side. Rosalie leveled her pretty eyes at Edward, boring a hole into his forehead, "Demetri doesn't _need_ to find Bella. He only needs to find _us_, and especially you, Edward. So, _no_, your little plan _sucks_."

Before more arguments could break out Bella broke in, "I'm on a time limit here! Is everyone ready with a vote?" There was a general nod and Bella turned to Edward, "Fine, Edward, you vote first."

"The integrity of the soul is the foundation of my belief system," he said bombastically, "and therefore my answer will always be _no._" Bella knew his vote already, but his words still stung. It was difficult understanding his position when she didn't believe in something as archaic as a soul. Alice followed next, and her weariness from the trip had already faded.

"I welcome you as my sister. I have already said that I would change you myself if I knew I had the strength." Bella smiled at her generosity, feeling accepted and forgiven. She turned to Alice's mate. He let out a whoosh of air and a half smile,

"Hell yes," he said, "I'd love to not want to kill you any more." Bella laughed, feeling buoyed by the votes in her favor. She thought she was sure of Rosalie's answer but the blonde shook her head and said,

"No." When there was a surprised pause she continued, "No, Bella, it isn't because of you. I do, finally, accept you as my ugly half-sister," she cushioned the insult with a smile before adding, "But I never wanted this life for me. Even with Emmett, it isn't…" Emmett took her hand in his and she saw Rosalie's nails disappear into his skin, she cleared her throat, "I wish someone had been able to say _no_ for me."

It was a sting, and a reminder to Bella that the life she was asking for would not be easy. Still, she believed it would be worth it. Her eyes looked to Emmett, entirely unsure of his vote. He gave his wife an apologetic smile, saying out of the corner of his mouth,

"Yeah, I want her in."

Esme's radiant face had already answered Bella, brimming with pride and love a though she were being asked if Bella could marry Edward.

"You would be a lovely addition to the family, I give an adamant _yes_."

Bella's hungry eyes fell on Carlisle and she realized she didn't know what he would say. They had spoken so much in the past, and he always surprised her with the depths and folds of his knowledge and opinions. She respected and admired Carlisle, and she knew he loved her, but she also knew he agreed with Edward concerning the rights of the soul. Bella was young and vivacious and therefore this was a new conundrum for him.

"Why?" Edward asked in a voice that trailed off as Carlisle turned and nodded his approval. His was the only vote that really mattered for this family, and he had said yes. Edward was out of the room, missing, there was an abrupt crashing sound and then silence. Jasper was gone, too. He was the second fastest runner in the house, and she hoped he could catch Edward and calm him. Emmett offered to bring her home, and she was forced to leave feeling unresolved and sickly.

Bella struggled to stay on Emmett's wide back, feeling uncomfortable and nervous. He loped through the woods, trying to keep up a conversation that she couldn't follow over the whooshing of the wind. Something about how he didn't envy Edward if Jasper caught up, and how the two of them were the nastiest fighters he'd ever met. This was not especially reassuring to Bella, but she concentrated on not getting motion sick rather than listening.

Emmett latched onto the windowpane with one hand but didn't enter the bed room, saying it wasn't his place.

"I'm glad you're back though, Bellzabub," he said, using his free hand to help her through the window, "you make Ed fight fair. Doesn't poke at my chinks like he used to."

Bella crawled through the window and felt a hand reach out to help her.

"I've got her, Emmett. Thank you." Edward was already in her room. He'd escaped Jasper and looked surprisingly calm. Emmett flashed a sly grin and let himself drop, but Bella never heard a landing.

"Bella," he began while pacing, "I think it was damned unfair of you to put our happiness down to vote, but I understand why you did it. We can't… we can never go through that again. And you're right, the best way to prevent such insanity is to spend our lives together, bound together."

Bella sat on the bed before she caught her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was bushy and if she had a shock of white she'd be bride of Frankenstein.

"I agree with you," she said, standing up to grab some hair bands and smooth down her frizz, "and I would like a little time before I abandon my mortal life. But they have a point, I can't look too old or else everyone will think I'm your mother." Edward was surprisingly calm, she thought. After his sudden departure she had assumed he'd be angrier. Instead he appeared preoccupied, carefully tracing a short path along her floorboards.

"The venom will make you exceptionally youthful even at an older age," he waived his hand distractedly, "You could be in your forties and look like a college student."

"I'm not going to spend eternity being forty when you are barely seventeen," Bella smiled, "There's a word for those kind of women, and I believe it is pejorative."

"Come now, Bella," he said pausing. He fixed a smile on his face that was young and wry.

"When I think about older men dating seventeen-year-old girls, my age tolerance is pretty low." She said.

"How low?" He wheedled, using a winning smile that Bella couldn't fight. His face was wolfish and sly, the careful face of a boy with a secret that you just wanted to know. She couldn't believe she'd forgotten that face.

"What are you aiming for, Edward Cullen?" She asked with a lopsided grin. He sat on the side of the bed with her, kissing her ears and eyebrows, making her laugh.

"I could get a mustache, that would make me look older," he murmured. Edward had resorted to silliness and honestly it was working pretty well. But she could feel something unsaid and she forced herself to name it,

"Edward," she pushed him back so he could look in her eyes, "are you okay with this? With me changing?"

"No," he said, his grin wilting, "but we could compromise, right? I understand what you want: eternity with me," there was a catch in his voice. The clever grin left entirely and suddenly his face was vulnerable, his eyes a mixture of sadness and incredulity. He looked at her as though he was the luckiest man in the world. She'd seen those eyes before, misted and quivering. "I want that, too," he continued, "perhaps we can both have what we want."

Edward took her hand and deftly slipped off the bed, landing in a crouch on one knee. Looking up at her with his dark eyebrows contrasting golden ochre irises, he was irresistible.

"Marry me."


	25. An Unhappy Ending

Later, when Edward would replay the moment in his head, he would remember that she didn't hesitate. Her smile faltered and her mouth opened, dry and apologetic. The voice that came from Bella was resigned and adult. It was the voice of reluctant reality, the one parents used when they finally explained who brought the presents for Christmas morning. It was the voice of someone shattering a glossy, false ideal.

"No," she whispered, "I won't marry you."

Edward had not anticipated this. He gave a surprised laugh, his smile frozen and unsure where to go. His grip on her hand relaxed and he looked around himself, seeing that he was kneeling in the traditional proposal pose and he had just been jilted. He stood, feeling dizzy and fake.

"Edward," she said, moving forward to catch him in case he tried to disappear or faint, "it isn't because I don't love you."

He turned back, his eyes unfocused and frightening.

"This is what I've done?" He asked, as if to himself. "Of course. Of course you can't…" he kept trying to work a smile to his face, but he was failing and it reminded her of watching him trying to stand after Jane had incapacitated him. Reminded her of the fawn, struck by a car and trying to stand. "It's because of Jacob, isn't it?" He asked.

"No!" She responded instantly, "Forget Jacob, okay? Just forget him. He doesn't belong here with us." She followed his movements, trying to place herself in his way until he would look her in the eye. "Marriage doesn't mean to me what it means to you. It means something very, very different. It isn't something I want to associate with what we have together."

His eyes narrowed. "Bella, this isn't some shotgun wedding. I proposed to you from my heart and you rejected me."

"My parents weren't a shotgun wedding," she said, matching his expression.

"Well," he blustered, blinking furiously as he tried not to insult her progenitors, "they were too young. I'm over a hundred years old. I think I know what I want when I see it!"

"This isn't about you," she shook her head, "you are the love of my life. You are _it_. Don't you see? We are _better_ than marriage."

Edward's jaw nearly dropped, but he had managed to regain enough composure to control himself. He stepped away from Bella. He closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair. He had forgotten that loving Bella meant endless frustration and surprise.

"What does that even _mean_?" He moaned from behind his hands.

"Who would marry us?" Bella asked, "The church that's condemned you to hell? A government that we'll outlive together? Who has the authority to join us together? None but us, Edward. We don't need someone else's approval."

"I should have brought the ring," he muttered through his fingers, "you would have reacted differently if I brought it but Jasper was chasing me."

Bella's eyes bulged and she shouted, "What!" then, hushing herself hissed, "You bought me a _ring_?"

"Looks like you woke up Charlie," Edward said, the wolf grin returning to his face. Bella's mouth hung open, then, hearing the squeaky coils and grumbles of her father her eyes went cartoonishly wide. They both had the giggles, perhaps it was body's natural response to a weekend of hardship.

"Hide!" She hissed, scrambling into bed and failing to stifle a grin. The tension had snapped with Edward's rakish smile. He doffed an invisible hat and slipped into her closet. A knock came on her door and Bella brought the sheets around her, affecting a sleepy groan,

"Is it lunchtime?"

"Hey, baby," Charlie said, coming in and sitting on her bed. He looked like hell. He'd slept in his shoes. Bella noticed this and protested, forgetting about the boy in her closet,

"Dad! In your _shoes_?"

He looked down and gave an unsurprised laugh, "Well, you run me ragged, girl."

"I'm sorry, Dad. It was an unexpected emergency."

"What kind of emergency stops a daughter from contacting her father for nearly four days?"

Bella had decided to keep to the truth as closely as possible.

"Actually, it was a misunderstanding. Alice got a garbled message that Edward was sick. Really sick, Dad. We thought he was going to die."

"Die, huh?" He didn't seem impressed.

"Well, you know how all those Cullens have delicate constitutions. Anyway, it was a mistake. Edward looked bad, but he bounced back quickly. If he was going to die, I wanted to see him first." Her voice was soft and she realized she shouldn't be holding back her tears.

"You still should have called me," he said gruffly, though he had been softened by Bella's reaction.

"I was in such a whirlwind," she apologized, "I didn't even have time to sleep let alone think. By the time we were on the plane back I could barely hold myself together, that's why I asked Carlisle to call you. He's always so composed."

"He is a good man. I wish he'd rub off on that boy better."

"Dad," Bella chided with a smile. She thought she was out of the woods. Charlie sighed and stood up.

"Well, Bella. I love you, but you just have been doing me wrong. Something about this area makes you crazy, and I think it is all because of that boy. That's why I've asked Renee to take you in at Jacksonville."

Bella jumped out of bed, angry, "No." She said. She was getting very good at standing up for her own position.

"Bella, I can't take you disappearing all the time. Even when you are here sometimes you're totally gone. Remember those months? You're not a zombie anymore, but you can't just jet out of here whenever you want!"

"Why not? I'm an adult and I'm very responsible."

"Bella," Charlie was using his Dad-voice but she wouldn't have it.

"You can kick me out, but I'm not going to Jacksonville. I've moved here, Dad. I've got a life here now. There are other families who are willing to take me if you won't."

Charlie regarded her stiffly.

"They're back for good?" He asked, sucking his mouth to one side.

"Yes. Apparently the weather in Forks is better for their condition." He gave her the Sheriff's Eyeball but she didn't blink. It never works on daughters.

"You're grounded." He tested.

"Fine," she sniffed. "I'll stay home, do laundry and chores and homework, I'll cook, and I'll clean my bedroom." Charlie was taken aback.

"You'll clean your bedroom?" He asked. It had quite literally not been cleaned since her birthday.

"Can I still go running?" She asked. Charlie crossed his arms.

"How do I know you won't be meeting up secretly with that Cullen boy?"

"You can join me on my runs if you want," she offered. Charlie worked his mustache, angry and surprised by his pugnacious daughter. There was no way he'd huff and puff for a zillion miles beside his daughter at the crack of dawn.

"Will that boy be driving you to school again?" He asked, his mustache matching his quizzical eyebrows.

"It's saves us a lot of gas money, and the Cullens can definitely afford it. I'll see him in school anyway, you can't keep me from him."

"You're a hard woman," he said, "but I reserve the right to exercise paternal panic if I feel you're doing something suspicious."

"Paternal panic isn't a real thing," Bella laughed, her smile catching on Charlie's face. It absolutely broke his heart to see that smile after so many months, to know that Edward Goddamn Cullen brought his baby girl back.

"Oh yes it is," he said, "the law abides by it. That boy better know, there's a reason Sheriffs never go to jail for killing bad boyfriends."

Bella sighed dramatically, slouching onto the bed. Charlie was joking now, and she felt at ease, "I'm going back to bed. You should shower and wake me when it's lunchtime."

"All right, Bells," Charlie sighed, closing the door and leaving her with a wink. Bella had almost forgotten Edward was in the room, and she suppressed a giggle when he snuck out of the closet.

"I think he really will try and kill me when he finds out I'm trying to marry you."

"Then he'll be glad that I keep shooting you down," Bella murmured, taking his face into her hands and pulling him into a kiss.

* * *

><p>It should have ended there, happy and giggling. But of course it couldn't. Not when Bella's happiness came at the expense of Jacob Black and his clan. He'd avoided her since the happy homecoming. A whole week had passed and it felt like a re-hash of when Sam stole Jacob away from her. Except now when she called on the phone Billy would swear at her in Quileute or English. It was bad, the way she had left him. The last time she'd seen Jacob Black he had just pressed his body to hers, reminding her to come back to Forks and reclaim it. She didn't want to imagine his reaction when he heard the news that the Cullens had moved back in, and that Edward was driving Bella to school again as though nothing had happened. She'd seemingly tossed Jacob aside.<p>

Bella went on runs in the morning, and it was the only time she asked Edward to let her be alone. She could no longer share those moments with him, and she'd rather endure the fatigue alone if she couldn't share it with Jake. She was caught up, wondering about Jacob and what would happen with him, and she easily ignored the uproar when she returned to school. There was so much gossip going that first day, you'd think they'd have called it a holiday and let school out early. Jessica spent all of Art class staring openly at Bella, who was actually trying to figure out how to do a linoleum engraving. Edward and Alice were still easing their way back into classes, but Art was one of the subjects he hadn't been able to take with Bella. When Bella turned to see the raccoon-eyed girl gawking Jessica just said,

"I don't fucking believe it."

Bella shot her a cheery grin and turned back to her linoleum carving. She had one of Alice's blouses on and was even wearing a little make-up. She looked rosy, pretty even. But when she got in the car to drive back home with Edward she slipped back into reality. The one with vampires and werewolves. They'd taken to driving in silence, listening to music together and saving their conversations for the evening. Neither of them had indulged in song since the break-up, and there was something soothing about putting a song on repeat and letting it filter through the familiar Volvo.

Edward pulled the car over early, hearing someone's thoughts loud, angry, and nearby. Jacob was waiting in Bella's woods. Bella said she should go alone, that Jacob would want it that way. Edward wanted to let her, he wanted to stop saying "No" all the time, but she kept asking him to do the impossible. He had to go with her. Not only was she meeting with a werewolf, she was meeting with a werewolf who was purportedly in love with her, and love made people do crazy things.

"You should have come alone," Jacob said before she could see him.

"This is who I am now, Jacob," Bella said, finding her way toward her old friend, "We can have our privacy later but Edward wanted to be here, too." When she came into Jacob's view he knew she was gone from him. Her curls were unified and no longer frizzy. She wore jeans that fit her slimmer thighs, a blouse that hugged her hips and hid the soft rolls of her stomach. He saw the glint of white pearl on her ears and remembered she had worn those earrings the day of Harry's wake. The day they had kissed in the kitchen. The day…

"He thinks I'm brainwashing you," Edward murmured to Bella. Jacob turned his chin in the vampire's direction.

"Can't have my blood so you go for my thoughts, huh? Try this medicine." _Sam finding Bella. Bella weeping in the garage. "You're gorgeous," she said. "I love you," she said. Kissing. Bella's mouth. The sound of her acquiescing._ Bella realized he was sending memories and images to Edward, selecting whatever he thought would hurt most.

"Hey!" Bella grabbed Jacob's attention back to her, "Stop that! Why didn't you just call me if you're so angry?"

"I didn't want to hear your excuses," he said flatly. "You fell for his insanity. I can't save you now, Bella. You're too far gone."

For a moment, she saw his familiar eyes, eyes that were vulnerable and would tell her about taking care of Billy when Sarah died. Then they hardened again.

"I didn't just come here to see what he's done to you. I had a second reason to come here: to remind you of the treaty."

"Noted." Edward interrupted. Jacob was wild and he wanted to calm the wolf down and get Bella away from him as quickly as possible. "Jacob, I want to thank you for something." This startled both Jacob and Bella.

"Thank you for keeping her alive. For being there for her when I wasn't."

"You sure as hell weren't." Jacob muttered. _Bella bleeding under the motorcycle. Bella's collapse in the woods, screaming that Edward had taken a piece of her away._

"C'mon, Bella," Edward said, reaching for her arm, "we have to get back before Charlie hears the yelling."

"Hey, I'm talking to _her_, vamp!" Jacob yelled, not liking how Edward put his hand on Bella's arm.

"He has something to say to me, Edward. Let him talk," Bella said, easily releasing herself from his hold. "Talk to _me_, Jacob. Look at _me_."

Jacob's eyes settled on Bella, but he wouldn't let them soften again. His face was blank.

"The treaty states that no vampire can bite a human and live; not kill, but _bite_." Bella's eyes widened as she took this in.

"What if it's a mutual agreement? What if that's what I want?" She asked. It had been a stupid remark from Billy, something impossible that Jacob couldn't believe until he heard it himself. He took a step back, disgusted by the truth, his features contorting.

"I'll kill him," he muttered softly.

"What did you say, cur?" Edward rankled.

"She was fine before you came back," Jacob said evenly, "She was getting better. She was recovering. I knew you'd poison her again. You filthy blood-sucking vampire. You have to take all of her, don't you?"

"Jacob stop!" Bella was trying to interrupt but the two monsters were spitting at each other.

"First you steal her happiness," Jacob continued, "then you steal her from me, now you are finally taking her life. You aren't civilized. You aren't controlled. You're _killing her_."

"I chose this!" Bella broke in, angry when others spoke about her as though she weren't there.

"No," Jacob said, "he's got his poison in you again. Hear this: if that filth bites you, I'll kill him. That's a promise."

"Looks like you can't turn now, Bella," Edward said.

"Shut up, the both of you!" She shouted.

Then they all heard the loud bellow of a dangerous father,

"Isabella Swan you get out of those woods right now! Get over here!"

Edward looked at Bella, "The idiot just got you killed," he said, "the wolf left a motorcycle on your porch with a note to Charlie."

"What?" Bella spun on Jacob, "Why? Why would you tell Charlie…?"

"He wanted to get you in trouble," Edward answered for him, "It was a dumb move, mutt. She was already grounded, now she's just going to have to spend even more time home alone. _With me_. You've also tarnished your erstwhile shining reputation with Charlie."

"Shut up, Dracula," Jacob said. "Who the fuck says _erstwhile_?" He looked at Bella, "Him? _Really_?"

"BELLA GODDAMN SWAN YOU GET HERE NOW!"

"It'll be worse if he sees me," Edward said, handing Bella's backpack to her and motioning for her to go. Jacob gave a laugh and muttered _coward_, but Edward ignored him. Bella shot them both a look.

"If I live, I need to talk to you again, Jacob." She said.

"I don't know who you are anymore," Jacob said, "You were always trying to let him kill you. Now he will. And then I'll kill him."

"BELLA!" Charlie roared, "PRIVILEGES REVOKED UNTIL _MENOPAUSE_!"

"Please," she begged, "I'm not gone Jacob, I'm right here." But Jacob shook his head.

"He's taking lives," he said, pointing to Edward, "just by being here he is enslaving more of those children. You fought for me when I got taken in," Jacob reminded her, "you loved me once."

"I still love you," she said. Edward had disappeared from her line of sight, she saw only Jacob now. "Why can't I have you both?"

"You can't, Bella," Jacob said sadly. "You choose him, you become my enemy. He turns you and I don't even know what I'll have to do. Go back before Charlie loads his shot gun."

Edward agreed, and it felt just like the moment when the two of them told her to go home, right after she had failed to save Jacob from Sam. _Go home, Bella,_ they told her.

"I'm coming, Dad!" she shouted. She walked backward, holding eye contact with Jacob until she felt herself stumble. She scrambled back to her feet and ran toward the house, feeling the tears stinging her eyes.

She had to look over her shoulder one last time. Edward was already gone, but Jacob was still there—and she saw something that she was not supposed to see. He had let the dam break, let the emotions flood so they wouldn't burst his body. He was kneeling on the ground, his head in his hands and his shoulders shaking. He was sobbing.

She had plenty to worry about. She had to withstand Charlie's outrage for the next weeks, which was bad enough, but she also had a renegade vampire who still wanted her dead. Furthermore, the Volturi wanted her as a pet. But foremost in her mind was Jacob and she swore that she would fix him the way he had fixed her. It was her turn to take care of him now, and she would find her way back to him.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Thank you for reading Running with Wolves, book 2 in the "Bella Swan is Fat and Ugly" tetrology. Next up, _Semper Augustus_ which will be a re-hash of Eclipse except with, you know... emotional growth and stuff._

_Tell your friends, tell your pets, tell your friends' pets, and thanks again for reading. You guys have truly made writing worthwhile and new for me. Review, go back and read BSFU if you haven't, and let me know how much you hate my clever little pieces :)_

__**Author's Plea:** I come from the windy city, so named for its blustering politicians and while I do not share the circumloquity or obfuscation of said individuals I'm afraid that I do share their proclivity for the prolix phrase. Due to this verbose habit, my summaries are AWFUL. **I would appreciate any and all attempts to re-write the Running with Wolves summary**. Please PM me with suggestions! What is the nut of this novel? What is the grab? I will send all kinds of good juju your way :)__


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